Archive of Our Own

The continuous beeping of the heart monitor did nothing to fend off the growing pit in Sieun's stomach. 

The IV line dripped steadily, disappearing into Suho's thin wrist— a thin thread tying him to life.

He felt frozen, stuck. He was breathing, but numb. His heart beat, but his body wouldn't warm. And somewhere beneath the growing numbness and cold, Sieun felt an inexplicable need to break, shatter, destroy. He wanted the bones of those who had done this to Suho to break under his arms.

So he did. He gave in to the rage, let it burn through him, violent and cleansing. He shattered bones, flipped tables, crushed glass— anything, everything that his hands could destroy. There was blood under his nails for days. He didn't even notice.

He was inevitably expelled, labelled violent, reckless. Dangerous.

But none of it helped, the cold still clung to his skin. Even after every fight, every bruised knuckle and bloodied lip, his body stayed numb. The cold remained.

But then—

He saw Suho.

Suho in his wheelchair, out in the sun for the first time in so long, eyes alit with the rays of light. He was alive, awake, present. And for the first time, Sieun felt a flame flicker inside of him, warming him after so, so long.

Sieun ran.

He collapsed onto his knees, wet grass staining his pants, but he couldn't care less about it, not when he had Suho within arm's reach. Warm, breathing, and awake.

His head fell forward, coming to rest on Suho's thighs, and he felt whole again. Suho's warmth permeated through his thin hospital clothes, and he didn't feel so cold anymore.

Suho's trembling fingers patted his head, wove it through his hair. "Don't lay there," he said, voice soft. "You'll get dirty."

Sieun couldn't form words, a heavy lump forming in his throat, but he managed to shake his head, still laying down on Suho's thighs. Suho laughed, a watery sound, and Sieun wished to memorize it, have it play on repeat everyday, over and over again.

"Did you miss me?" Suho asked, voice light as if he were making a joke, but when Sieun looked up, he saw Suho's face, open and earnest, asking for a real answer.

He wondered how he could explain to him that he couldn't even comprehend a life without him in it. How he had missed him so much that his body had gone cold and only rage could heat his body up. How he was all he had ever wanted in his entire life, and he'd been snatched away, leaving a yawning hole in his heart. But it was too much, and too little, at the same time and Sieun could never be able to explain it all properly, so he just looked up at Suho, feeling his tears gently roll down his cheeks, and whispered, "Yes."

Suho tugged him up, trembling fingers curling around his collar, and perhaps Sieun could have shaken him off, remained where he was lying on his lap, but Sieun has always been weak to Suho, so he went along without a fight, pulled half on top of Suho, one leg precariously kept on top of Suho's lap, while the other carried his whole weight.

Sieun clutched onto him desperately, fingers bunching the soft cotton fabric, and face burying into his neck, where Suho's hair tickled his cheek. His hair had gotten longer, a bit wavier, and it looked good on him. Sieun heaved a sigh, and went to hug him even closer.

Suho's arms were solid around his waist, grounding. He wondered how long he spent there, half on his lap, and desperately clutching onto him like a lifeline. They must have made an odd sight, but he didn't care, as long as he was with Suho.

"When did you wake up?" Sieun whispered softly, pulling his head back to look at Suho.

Suho's arms remained wrapped around him, index finger drawing halting circles at the small of his back. "I don't really remember," Suho said, and his finger stilled. "I would wake up, and then go to sleep immediately after. It took a while for the nurses to notice."

Sieun must have been making some kind of face then, because Suho smiled at him, as if to reassure him. "It's fine. I'm just glad I'm awake." Suho removed one hand from around his waist to pat his cheek. "Now, introduce me to your friends?"

Sieun nodded, and gently untangled himself from Suho. He automatically went to hold the handles of Suho's wheelchair, pushing him forward. It was easy, and he wondered if it was because Suho lost so much weight. It seemed like an awful thought.

Suho got along fine with all of his friends, a subdued smile aimed at all of them, and answering when talked to. Sieun knew it wouldn't be easy to jump back to how it was, not after all this time, but it still felt like heavy lead in his stomach seeing Suho so muted.

But then Suho touched his hand where he was holding the wheelchair, and he felt the tension ease. He had known it wouldn't be the same, but he didn't want it to be that way anyway. He would stay by his side, regardless of anything. He wasn't leaving Suho again.

Humin talked boisterously, Juntae a stark difference with his soft spoken words and smile, with Hyeontak right behind with an easy-going smile, but Sieun watched Suho. Watched how his muscles moved when he smiled, how his lips formed the words, and how he would squeeze Sieun's hand occasionally, and memorised it until he was sure it was embedded into the deepest parts of his brain, until he could see it even with his eyes closed.

Humin stepped closer to Sieun then, the other two still holding a conversation with Suho. Sieun looked at him questioningly, watched as he silently crept closer, and asked for his ear. Sieun hesitantly leaned sideways, closer to Humin.

"So, this is your Suho, isn't he?" he asked in a quiet voice.

Sieun should have startled at the pronoun. Your Suho. But it felt natural, normal. He was Suho's, Suho was his. It seemed right.

They fell into rhythm quick— quiet, predictable, and something Sieun clung to. Most days after school, he'd walk the same path to the hospital, and by the time he arrived, Suho would have finished his physical therapy.

"Don't you have cram school today?" Suho asked the moment Sieun pushed open the door.

Sieun settled into the plastic chair kept beside the bed, dropping his bag on his left. "I skipped," he honestly replied.

Suho sighed. "I'm a bad influence on you. You never used to do that before." But then his eyebrows shifted down, a minute change, but Sieun noticed. "But two years is enough time to change, isn't it?"

"It hasn't been two years," Sieun argued softly.

Suho smiled. Sieun wished it would reach his eyes. "One year, five months, and sixteen days," Suho said, relaying what the doctors had said, as if Sieun hadn't kept count himself, hadn't mentally added another day to the count every moment Suho kept sleeping.

Suho shook his head, as if to clear his thoughts. "Aish, why am I being so sad, right? It's fine-"

"I wrote to you everyday," Sieun cut in.

Suho's eyes snapped to his. "What?"

Sieun shifted slightly, embarrassed. "I sent you messages. About my day."

Suho looked devastated. "I don't have my phone with me," he said, and he sounded pained.

Sieun chewed at his lip. "It's not good." He paused. "It's— It's bad."

Suho turned to him, hand immediately coming to rest on Sieun's to hold it as tightly as he could. "I don't care," he said, and it sounded genuine. "I want to read it."

Sieun nodded. "Okay. I won't delete them."

Suho laughed, and it finally reached his eyes. "Don't you dare," he said. Sieun felt his lips turn up, too. He felt warm.

The hold on Sieun's wrist turned into a tug. "Don't sit there," Suho insisted. "My bed is big enough."

Sieun half got up, knees still bent, hesitant. The bed wasn't big enough, but another tug was enough for Sieun to lean forward and gingerly sit at the edge of the mattress.

Suho didn't have any of that. He pulled him in until he was awkwardly sprawled over the bed, one half on Suho, while the other half dangled off the bed. It would've been uncomfortable, but the mattress was plush, and Suho was warm, so Sieun pressed his shoulder to Suho's and didn't complain.

"Tell me how your day was."

Sieun looked up at Suho questioningly. 

"Well," Suho continued with an easy grin, "I can't read how your days were before, but you can tell me how it was today."

And, well, old habits die hard, maybe, so Sieun settled against Suho's shoulders a comfortable presence, and told him about his day, not very different from how he would message Suho. Except, he got to talk to the real him, awake and present.

He talked about his friends, his school, and all the things he noticed while on his way to the hospital in a quiet voice. He kept his eyes on Suho the entire time, and Suho met his gaze equally, a growing smile always gracing his lips whenever Sieun was overcome by an overwhelming feeling of shyness. Sieun could live like this forever.

They settled into easy silence after, calm in all ways. With the sun streaming through the open windows, the hospital room didn’t seem so bleak anymore. Sieun looked at Suho, and wondered if that was just because of the sunlight.

"You know," Suho started suddenly and Sieun gave him all his attention. "My grandma said you visited almost everyday."

Sieun nodded slowly. "Yeah."

Suho met his gaze evenly. "It couldn't have been fun, staring at a sleeping body."

"I didn't come here for fun." Sieun paused, worried the inside of his cheek. "I came for you."

Suho slumped back, head resting against the backrest. Sieun worriedly leaned forward to see if the fatigue had gotten to him, but Suho just lay there with his eyes closed and tongue in cheek, biting down a smile.

"What is it?" Sieun asked when he realised Suho wasn't planning on answering.

Suho finally opened his eyes, warm and happy, and looked at Sieun.

"Nothing. I'm just happy."

Three months later, Suho was officially discharged from the hospital, with instructions to keep visiting the hospital weekly for his physical therapy, and check on his progress. Suho looked like he had gained freedom.

It was quick work then, Suho's grandmother filling in the forms, while Sieun waited for Suho in his hospital room, watching him gather his belongings. There wasn't much, just a Rubik's cube for when Suho had gotten bored, and two books that Sieun wasn't even sure Suho finished. It was still a relief to see the hospital room go back to being just a hospital room, and not Suho's room.

The door shut close, and it felt like the end of a bad chapter that Sieun was more than willing to close.

It was a good day out, and Sieun knew that Suho thought so, too, with how his eyes drank in the tall buildings, and the sun filtering through the gaps between leaves. He still needed the help of a walking cane, but standing there, outside, Suho looked steady.

Suho's grandmother stepped out of the hospital as well, a wide, trembling smile between her thin lips. She had aged a lot in the time it took for Suho to wake up, each week driving her weary, but if she could still smile like this now, Sieun thought it wouldn't be so bad.

Suho rushed to his grandmother, two quick taps of the walking cane against the pavement and he was right beside her, hugging her tightly, her frame getting hidden by Suho's much taller one. Sieun looked away, offering them a moment of privacy.

The day was truly good, sun peeking through the cumulus clouds, shrouding the place in a warm glow, but still not harsh enough to seem hot. It was a good time to return back home, to start again.

Sieun thought about what it meant for Suho and him now. They weren't going to be in the same class, they weren't even going to be in the same school, maybe. It was ink on a new page— fresh, new, uncertain.

Sieun turned back to see Suho talking to his grandmother in soft voices, hand holding her trembling ones, other holding onto his cane. It was relief, maybe, to realise that whatever stability Sieun couldn't offer, his grandmother certainly could.

Suho turned to him then, eyes immediately finding his as he turned around, and waved him over. Sieun startled, but his legs took him closer to Suho anyway.

"Let's go to a park," Suho said the moment Sieun got close enough, the hand holding his grandmother's shifting to hold Sieun's bicep. "It's been so long. Show me around, Sieun-ah," he said with a smile bordering on cheeky. It was such a pleasant sight.

"Wouldn't it be too tiring?" Sieun asked concerned. The doctors had suggested another week at least for rest.

Suho shrugged, and bumped his shoulder against Sieun's. "You're there aren't you?" he asked with a smile. "You'll catch me."

They both knew Sieun couldn't run to save his life, could barely lift a weight. But for Suho he could, for him he would.

"Okay," Sieun said, nodding. "Let's go."

Suho's grandmother reached over to hold onto Sieun's other arm, and squeezed it for a brief moment. She smiled warmly at Sieun, her eyes melted pools of brown against murky white, but it still shined. Sieun felt himself smile back without thinking.

She walked forward slowly, and they followed. It was a quick walk then, to the nearest park, barely a few minutes on foot. Sieun noticed that Suho was slowly slowing down, but he seemed to want to continue, so Sieun didn't say a word.

The park was big, and lush in its greenery, huge trees making canopies over benches, a cool shade underneath. Suho's grandmother lead them both to the bench.

"Sit," she advised them two. "I'll get you two something sweet."

Sieun immediately shook his head. "No, halmeoni," he said. "You rest. I'll get us something."

She smiled, and gently patted his cheek, soft skin against his. "No," she said in a shivering voice and a smile. "You two talk. My Suho loves talking to you."

Sieun mutely sat down, a little dumbfounded. Suho looked embarrassed by her words, but he didn't deny it. She waved goodbye to them once, and walked off to the little convenience store nearby.

They didn't speak for a while, but Sieun didn't mind much. He watched the kids play with mud and sticks, hands a dirty brown. He wondered offhandedly if he had ever played like this. 

"I got my phone back, you know?"

Sieun stiffened, swallowed, all his previous thoughts leaving him. The words felt like a thread pulled taut.

He didn't know how to respond to that. Suho was letting him know that he had read the messages, Sieun had known he would read the messages, but suddenly he was terrified again.

What if he thought I am too impulsive? What if he thought I'm too violent? What if, what if, what if-

Suho's head came to rest on Sieun's shoulder, a steady presence. Sieun's mind screeched to a halt, the spiral quieted. Sieun took in a breath, let it out slowly.

"Did you read it?" he asked, voice barely a whisper.

Suho hummed. "Yeah," he replied. A beat of silence. Sieun turned to look at Suho, a difficult task with how he was resting his head on Sieun's shoulder, but he managed. Suho looked like he wanted to say something, eyes a pool of emotion, sun dancing in glimmers in his brown eyes, and mouth half open, as if waiting for words to spill out. Suho's hand found his, squeezed it tight, and Sieun was sure he was going to say something then, but then he let go of his hand, and turned his head away, but it still remained rested on his shoulder.

"You handled everything much better than I would," Suho finally said. "I don't know what I would've done, but it would've been worse. Definitely worse."

Sieun shook his head. "I don't know. I handled it very badly. I don't think it can get worse than that."

Suho hummed. "Why not?"

Sieun remained quiet for a moment. "I don't regret it," he finally admitted to the only person he would forever be truthful to. A secret never given shape to— not until now, not until Suho.

Suho's fingers played with his, bending them forward and backward in a little dance. Warm fingers against his cold ones. He let that feeling ground him.

"It's okay," Suho said, moments later to the sound of rustling winds. Sieun let his eyes fall shut. "I don't either."

Neither of them spoke after, but Sieun felt that it has all been settled. Maybe they won't be in the same class, nor the same school, but they were still each other's constant.

"You need to look up from your books occasionally, too, you know? I heard that your eyes start straining otherwise."

Sieun looked up from his books to see Suho sprawled on his bed, head comfortably resting against Sieun's pillow, and blanket pulled up to his chest. His walking cane was strewn across on the floor. He looked like he was minutes away from falling asleep.

Suho was over today, too, like he was most days. It had been an unconscious decision, to have him at his house after he got discharged. Sieun mostly lived alone, and lived far closer to the hospital than Suho's grandmother. It had been a logical choice, a rational one, so it only made sense for them to go along with it. Suho hadn't objected when he had suggested it, and he hadn't objected yet.

"Sieun-ah," he murmured, and Sieun turned around fully now to look at him. Suho sleepily stared back. "Don't make me get up from here," Suho continued, a yawn cutting him off midway for a moment. "I'm too comfortable."

Sieun quickly leaned over to cut off the lights, gathering his books in his arms, and getting up from his chair.

"Okay," he agreed. "I'll go study in the other room. The lights must have been bothering you."

Suho groaned, and Sieun turned around to look at him again, halfway through the door. "No, you punk," he said with a sigh, eyes still half-lidded. "Just come to sleep."

Even though they had been somewhat living together, they still slept in separate rooms, Suho in Sieun's room, while Sieun slept in his father's. He didn't especially like sleeping there, but he supposed that with how rarely his father slept over, a change in sheets would be fine to make it seem like another room. It didn't, but he was fine as long as Suho was comfortable.

Suho pushed himself up from his bed, and Sieun felt a little guilty. "Don't sleep there," Suho said, patting the area beside him. "I know you don't like that room. Also, this is your bed."

Sieun hesitated, then slowly stepped back into the room, gently placing his books back on his desk. It was barely eleven, he could study another hour, but he still walked up to the bed, right side free for him because Suho knew him well, and sat down at the edge.

Suho reached blindly for his hand, wrapped his fingers around his wrist, and tugged. He was stronger now, recovering his muscles at an appreciable rate, as the doctors had put it, and Sieun found himself tilting sideways with the force, and awkwardly falling onto his bed. Suho just gave him a lazy grin.

Sieun slid inside the comforter, warm from Suho's presence, and settled down against his pillow. The bed smelled like Suho, fresh laundry and jasmine, or maybe Suho smelled like him. The thought pleased him.

Sieun lied down on his side, and Suho was already facing him, eyes heavy with sleep, but watching him nonetheless.

"Sieun-ah," he whispered into the little bubble between them. He didn't say anything after. His hand was right beside Sieun's, forefinger brushing his. They weren't holding hands, but they weren't pulling away either.

Sieun pressed his face further into his pillow, hiding half his face, and mumbled back, "Suho-yah."

Suho mimed being shot at, face pulled away, and the hand that was resting on the bed clutching at his chest. Sieun fought back the smile threatening on his lips. He wondered how he got so much energy even when he was seconds from falling asleep.

"You're so cute, you know that?" Suho asked, face serious, and Sieun thought he was so shameless, saying things like that with a serious face, but it became difficult to hold down the smile, so he just shut his eyes so that he wouldn't have to look at the triumphant look emerging on Suho's face.

When Suho's hand settled back from holding his chest, it rested precariously close to Sieun's waist, fingers gingerly brushing his shirt. He didn't move away. He opened his eyes to see Suho looking right back at him.

Sieun suddenly thought of several years ago, when his parents were on the verge of divorce, putting up an act of loving Sieun more than they hated each other. They never managed on convincing him, but one thing they regularly did the last few days before the divorce was finalised was holding him in bed, and hugging him tightly. He never liked it, wanted to claw those hands off, but he never did, and only fell asleep after his parents' arms went lack and loose.

He thought about now, the offer Suho was silently offering, and realised he didn't hate the idea so much now. He thought that if Suho wrapped his arms tightly around him, he wouldn't have any difficulty in falling asleep.

So, he inched his hand closer to Suho, and gingerly brushed it against his sleeve, and Suho took the gesture for what it was, and pulled him into a hug.

Sieun felt the touch of cotton against his cheek, soft from overuse, and it smelled of detergent. He let a shaky breath out, surprised by how calm he felt, and let his own hand wrap around Suho, pulling himself even closer. This close, he could smell the jasmine in his hair, just like shampoo in Sieun's bathroom. He felt his pulse quicken.

He could feel the rise and fall of Suho's chest from against him, could feel every point of contact minutely. His arm, pressed into the small of his back, his chest, pressed against Sieun's cheek, it all made Sieun feel raw, like his heart was spilling out.

Suho was awake, alive, and present, and Sieun wasn't cold anymore.

He let the warmth lull him to sleep, the soft droning of the A.C., and the gentle rise and fall of Suho's chest pulling him closer to sleep. For the first time in many years, Sieun slept within minutes of hitting the bed.

When he woke up once again, it was to the sunlight streaming in through the window. He had forgotten to close the curtains, and the soft gray clouds were already melting away into blue, as night gave way to day. He checked the clock that read 6:30, and realised he'd slept in longer than usual.

When he went to get up, he finally registered the strong arm wrapped around his waist, and the nose pressed into his nape. He must have turned around in his sleep, he was sure he hadn't been facing the other way before, but they'd still remained untangled. He didn't find it an unpleasant thought at all.

He gently tried to remove the hand around his waist, slowly trying to peel it off, but Suho was strong, far stronger than he had imagined, so he finally settled for waking Suho up for a moment to get ready for school.

"Suho-yah," he whispered, voice still gravelly from waking up, and felt Suho shifting after hearing his voice. He couldn't see him from this angle, but he hoped he had opened his eyes. "I have to go."

Suho groaned, pulled him tighter, and did not lift his arm.

"Suho," Sieun tried again, patting the back of his palm. "I have school."

"Five minutes," Suho mumbled into his neck, and Sieun felt a shiver run down his spine, face suddenly flushing red. "I'll get up then," Suho continued, not knowing how each movement of his lips sent a jolt down Sieun's spine.

Suho settled back down then, breath evening out, and slowly falling back asleep. The clock read 6:35 now, and his school started at 8:30. He would usually be done with his shower now, but Sieun found himself sinking back into the pillows again, eyes going heavy. He put on a five minute timer on Suho's watch, one he didn't remove even while sleeping, and slowly felt sleep take him. He could always bear being a few minutes late.

Cram school ended late, an extra class tacked on last minute making him stay back an hour too late. It was just his luck that this happened when the news predicted rainfall.

He caught the last bus just on time, fortunately, blissfully empty and quiet. He sat down near the window, looking out to see the moon get enveloped by thick rain clouds. It would start raining soon.

He pulled out his phone then, just to let Suho know he was coming home late, but he'd already missed two calls from him, the recent one just fifteen minutes ago. He immediately called him back.

He picked up on the second ring. "Where are you?" and he sounded worried.

"Class ended late," Sieun explained, as he leaned comfortably against the window. Small drops had started falling in irregular intervals. It would start raining heavily in a few minutes.

Suho let out a long sigh. "I thought something happened to you."

"I don't get into fights anymore."

"Thank God for that." Sieun smiled.

"Also," Suho continued, "did you bring your umbrella with you? It has started raining."

Sieun looked outside. The drops were falling much faster now. "I did," Sieun answered.

"Okay, good," Suho said. "Come home quick."

Maybe he didn't mean it, maybe he'd just used those words casually, but Sieun felt his heart swell regardless. Home, and it was where they lived together. Sieun felt warm even with the cold, pelting rain.

"I will," Sieun agreed, and the call was cut, but he still felt warm. 

It was a quick trip then, the bus coming to a stop right near his apartment. Sieun stepped off the bus, rain soaking the streets, and getting to him before he opened his umbrella. 

The wind howled, carrying the rain with it, and water hit Sieun in spite of the umbrella held overhead. He picked up his pace, eager— if that was the right word— to get home quick.

Sieun entered his apartment, closed umbrella held in one hand, and his key in the other. The living room lights were on, and he knew Suho was sitting there, waiting for him.

He dropped his umbrella near the foyer, and the light sound that it made hitting the ground notified Suho of his presence. Sieun saw him get up from the couch, towel held in his hand, and any annoyance he held on being held back for extra classes melted away at the sight.

"I thought you said you had your umbrella with you?"

"I did," Sieun replied, quickly stepping out of his shoes. "The rain was too heavy."

He heard Suho sigh, but he sounded fond, even to Sieun. "Come here," he ordered, patting the couch, and Sieun silently went.

"Next time," Suho said, gathering the towel in his hands to pat at his wet shoulders, "hail a taxi if it rains. Tell them to drop you right in front of your house."

Sieun nodded, and Suho shifted to his hair, gently scrubbing it dry, careful not to tug at his roots.

Sieun reached for the towel. "I can do it," he said, but his hand was quickly swatted away. He looked up at Suho, who looked back at him with a raised eyebrow, as if daring him to offer again.

"It's fine," Suho said, continuing to scrub his hair dry. "The doctors said I need to improve my fine motor skills anyway."

Sieun took the excuse as it was, and didn't object. He leaned against the couch, head resting against the headrest, and let Suho continue. Silence followed, only the sound of rain against glass permeating through, but it was comfortable. It was warm.

"There," Suho said. "All done." He sounded pleased. Sieun opened his eyes, ones he hadn't even known were closed, and saw Suho smile a blinding smile.

"I'm going to make something for us," Suho said, as he patted Sieun on his head, dropping the towel right on top, and getting up. "What do you want?"

Sieun watched as Suho got up, feeling the cold settle in again. "Anything is fine," he answered vaguely.

Suho turned around to look at him, face unimpressed and unamused, and Sieun felt a smile tug on his lips. "I asked you for your opinion, not permission," Suho said, and Sieun's smile got even wider.

"Bibimbap then," Sieun answered.

Suho smiled, and leaned down to pat Sieun's cheek once. "Okay," he easily agreed, and went into the kitchen, Sieun helplessly following after.

He could be revising right now. He should be revising right now, going over his physics notes, but whenever it came to Ahn Suho, Sieun felt like a helpless planet, forever revolving around his sun in its elliptical orbit. Closer, farther, closer, and then farther again.

He came to stand beside Suho, body leaning against the cool granite of the kitchen counter, and watched attentively as Suho gathered all the vegetables and appliances he needed from the various cabinets without even needing to ask Sieun where it was. Sieun wondered if this place was becoming a home for Suho, just like he had made it for Sieun.

He could help, but he found his peace in looking at the micro-expressions flitting through Suho's face as he methodically went on with his cooking, and Suho didn't ask for his assistance either. 

Sieun drank him in, the way his sharp eyes concentrated on the cutting board, his biceps flexed with recovered muscles, and his face radiant with health, at home only a few steps away from Sieun.

Sieun ached for him, a foreign feeling, but he was sure of it nonetheless. He wished to be nestled against his pulse, the steady drum of his heart lulling him to sleep every night. He craved him, craved the hand on his cheek, his head, his hands. He wanted him like a closed system yearns for equilibrium, loved him like how entropy loves disorder—inevitably, irreversibly, and without pause.

"You're staring."

Sieun dragged his eyes from the sharp cut of Suho's jaw to his eyes, albeit a bit difficultly. Suho seemed to be unaffected by Sieun's blatant staring, but he noticed that his cheeks were dusted with a faint glow of red.

"Can I not?" Sieun asked, continuing to let his eyes map the planes of his face and the tendons of his arms. It was no secret that Suho was undoubtedly attractive.

Suho scoffed, but not unkindly. Sieun noticed, interested, that his cheeks flushed even darker. He wanted to feel that warmth underneath his fingertips, down to the very core of his body.

Suho finally turned to look at him, and let Sieun get a full look of his face; dark eyes framed by long lashes, thick brows and full lips, and a face crafted by the universe to embody perfection. 

"What are you looking at?" Suho asked, seemingly embarrassed.

Sieun didn't answer immediately, let his mind gather his thoughts. He swallowed, paused. "I'm glad," he said, "that you're here," with me remained unsaid.

Suho smiled then, the easy smile of his that lifted the corner of his eyes. "Yeah?" he asked, voice soft, barely a breath. Sieun nodded, slowly, softly. 

Suho opened his arms, knife left on the cutting board, and Sieun went in easily, covering the short distance between them to loosely wrap his arms around Suho's waist and bury his face in the crook of his neck. He was warm again, in his tight hold.

Suho's arms around his shoulder pulled him closer, until Sieun could hear his heart beating through his chest, and feel his warmth envelope his cold body. The moment quieted down to the synced beating of their hearts.

Suho swayed both of them, the hands around him rocking him in a gentle rhythm. Sieun went with it.

"Are we dancing?"

Sieun huffed out a breath, lips still tenderly close to Suho's neck. "No."

"Should we dance?"

Sieun felt his lips turn up, felt warm in his body. He was glad he could hide his face from Suho from this angle.

"Do whatever you want."

Now Suho laughed, and the swaying got more prominent, less of a gentle shift of legs, and more of a dance, leaning heavily on both sides, rocking left and right. It was so silly, foolish, too, maybe, but Sieun didn't say a word, simply going with whatever Suho wanted, hiding his growing smile in the crook of Suho's neck.

If Sieun's lips got dangerously close to Suho's neck, neither of them mentioned it.

Weekends, for the first time in Sieun's life, started being the best time of the week.

Sieun woke up lazily— a stark contrast from the version of himself from just a few months ago— and blearily noticed that Suho wasn't sleeping beside him. He blinked slowly, looking around the room.

He spotted him leaning against the doorframe, phone in hand. He looked focused, a little shocked.

"Suho-yah?" Sieun called out.

Suho turned towards him, a hesitant smile crawling on his face. "Young-yi called me." Even with his slightly startled expression, he looked happy.

Sieun took in his expression, and smiled at him. "That's good," he agreed. "But isn't it a little early?"

Suho grinned, and leaned further into the door frame. "It's 10 O' clock."

Sieun whipped his head around to look at the digital clock on his table, and just as Suho had said, it read a glaring 10:06. His eyes widened.

Suho stepped into the room, a big smile on his face. "Don't look so sad, this is what happens when you sleep late." He sat down at the edge of their bed, his voice softening. "But you're sleeping well now."

Sieun sighed, half in disappointment, but decided to let it go. He had slept well— really well. "So," Sieun started, "what did you talk to Young-yi about?"

Suho lay down beside him, propping his head up on the palm of his hand, elbow resting against the mattress. Sieun continued sitting up, blanket pulled up around his hips.

"She contacts my halmeoni occasionally, so last time she called she realised I was awake," Suho started. "She got to know that last month, though. She said she hesitated a lot, trying to contact me, but finally decided to do it today. She sounded really guilty."

Sieun thought of the last day he'd seen her, guilt evidently visible on her face. She had thought that whatever had happened to Suho had been her fault, was drowning in the guilt, just like Sieun had been. Except Sieun obsessively sent Suho messages, doing everything to keep him in his life, while she did everything to stay away from his.

"How are you feeling?" Sieun asked.

Suho hummed thoughtfully. "I'm happy," he decided, a smile coming on his lips. "I'm glad she called. Even if it's late."

Sieun smiled. "Yeah."

"We talked after that, too. Said we should eat together once again."

"We should invite her over next week," Sieun said. "Show her the house, eat here."

Suho raised his eyebrows at him. "Really?" and he sounded surprised.

Sieun flushed. "Or we can just go out. I was only suggesting."

"No, no—" Suho laughed. "I like it. We should do that." Suho looked at him, and Sieun could've sworn there was something fond in his eyes. Sieun's face grew warmer. "I just thought you didn't like people in your house?"

"But you do," Sieun said, looking at Suho. 

"But I do." Suho was smiling so wide, his eyes were forming crescents.

Suho flopped down onto the bed, a happy laugh coming out of his mouth. Sieun watched him, endeared.

"We talked about other stuff, too," Suho told him, looking at him with a smile. "She watched a movie recently. Said it's very good. We should watch it."

"Now?"

"Sure."

Sieun frowned. "It's ten in the morning."

"So? It's the weekend."

"I need to study."

"Study later. You were up till 1 yesterday."

Sieun sighed. Suho clutched his chest dramatically, a pitiful look on his face.

"Fine," Sieun finally conceded. Suho shot him a victorious smirk. "Put it on the TV. I'll go brush my teeth."

Suho grinned. He had been grinning since the moment Sieun woke up. He got out of bed, and Sieun followed, silently walking over to the bathroom while Suho went to their living room, probably going to turn the T.V. on.

Sieun quickly got to brushing his teeth, the minty taste of toothpaste filling his mouth. It was a quick, methodic process, and then he was rinsing his mouth off, glancing at himself in the reflection. His hair was messy, and his eyes were still sleep-heavy, but he didn't feel the usual morning heaviness on his chest.

He walked out to the living room where Suho had dumped the bed's comforter on top of the couch, drowning it in fabric. It was ridiculous how they were settling back into blankets right after waking up, but Sieun didn't say a word, and climbed onto the couch.

"It's starting," Suho told him, as he buried himself further into the couch, comforter pulled up to his chest. Sieun smiled at the sight.

Sieun nodded, and settled his eyes on the screen, pulling the comforter over him as well.

The movie was... fine. He wasn't really sure. It was a romance drama, with incredibly unnecessary issues that made Sieun frown at every scene. Suho seemed to enjoy it though, attentively watching each scene play out without uttering a word.

Sieun would've thought that Suho was a talker during movies, not that he would've minded. He would've much preferred listening to Suho than watch the movie, if he was being honest. He decided not to trust Young-yi's taste anymore.

They were finally an hour and a half in, sun reaching its peak in the sky, and the movie nearing its climax. The main leads came close, colour high on their cheeks, and kissed.

Sieun looked at the screen, watched the couple kiss, and felt none of the butterflies in his stomach like Suho had promised. They looked good together, he supposed— like most couples in movies do— but he didn't feel anything watching them. Just distant, detached.

His gaze drifted sideways.

Suho sat beside him, eyes locked on the screen, and a slight smile tugging at his lips. The light from the screen lit his eyes up, shadowed his face in perfect dimensions, highlighting his high cheekbones, and long lashes. 

He looked... happy.

Sieun's eyes flickered back to the screen, watched the couple continue kissing passionately onscreen, but his eyes didn't stay there for long. They pulled back to Suho, to the curve of his lower lip, to the arc of the Cupid's bow.

I wonder what it is like to kiss someone, he thought.

And then, a fleeting thought—

I wonder what it is like to kiss you.

Suho was cooking when Sieun came back home, meticulously stirring the pot, while another boiled on stove.

He looked completely focused, eyes not straying from the pot, not even noticing that Sieun had come home. Sieun realised that Suho looked incredibly nervous.

It was such a novel look on him, something Sieun had never seen on his face before, and it endeared him. Sieun silently stepped into the kitchen, maybe hoping to catch Suho by surprise.

"What are you making?" he asked Suho, and wondered if he could hear the fondness in Sieun's voice even with such a mundane question.

Suho turned to him, eyes slightly wide in surprise, but he quickly recovered, face lifting with a smile. He let his ladle drop, and wrapped one arm around Sieun's shoulders, pulling him in until half of Sieun was pressed against Suho's side.

"You're home early," Suho said, as he picked up the ladle once again, arm slipping off Sieun's shoulders. Sieun watched as Suho carefully poured some of the broth onto his own palm, and licked it off to taste it. Sieun's throat suddenly went dry.

"Well," Suho continued, for which Sieun was glad. He wasn't sure if he could speak now. "Young-yi will be coming soon, and the food still needs some more time on the stove. Can you bring the plates to the table till then?"

Sieun nodded, and wordlessly riffled through the cabinets until he found the dinner set that he had never used even when his parents had been home. He brought them out, gave them a wash, and placed them on the table, a little like a new start.

The doorbell rang, and Sieun noticed from the corner of his eye, that Suho was nervously wringing the towel in his hand. Sieun went to open the door.

Young-yi looked different, but perhaps that was to be expected. Her hair wasn't coloured anymore, but her hair was longer, and the ends were still bleached. She looked nervous, much like Suho, but her eyes were not fixated on Sieun. She seemed to be looking behind him.

Sieun turned to see that Suho had come to the door as well, looking frozen for a moment, before he rushed forward to hug her, Young-yi reaching in, too, in that exact moment.

Sieun watched as the two hugged, and felt relieved. Suho had never voiced it, but Sieun had known that Suho had always felt disappointed and perhaps a bit resentful about the fact that Young-yi never came to visit. But watching them hug each other, both tightly clutching onto the other, he felt that they could mend their relationship easily.

Young-yi peeked over Suho's shoulders, and beckoned Sieun over with a wave of her hand. Sieun stood there, startled, and might've refused if it weren't for Suho's hand coming out to tug him in.

It was awkward, a little. He was pressed against both of them, hand gingerly placed around them, but it was- It was nice. He felt nice.

They finally detangled themselves from each other a couple seconds later, and Sieun noticed that both of their previous nervousness had melted away. Sieun led them to the dining table.

Suho had cooked a feast. The rice cooker steamed with rice, while another pot held kimchi-jjigae. Suho spooned them both a ladle full of soup, and Sieun noticed, pleasantly surprised, that it was ox-bone soup. When Sieun looked up to stare at Suho, he was already looking back, a secretive smile on his face.

Sieun gently tapped his foot against Suho's. Suho hooked their ankles together.

Conversation flowed easy, with Young-yi and Suho easily falling in step and talking about whatever, Sieun only humming in response whenever Suho spoke. The foot around his ankle still hadn't left.

"My girlfriend likes the ox-bone soup the make in the restaurant I work in, and my manager doesn't mind, so I take some home with me whenever there are leftovers," Young-yi said, talking around the mouthful of rice. "But this is really nice," she added, nodding to the finished bowl of soup on her side. "Tell me the recipe."

Suho looked at her surprised. "You have a girlfriend?"

Young-yi laughed. "Yeah, I do!" she said, still not fully done with swallowing the rice. Sieun watched as some rice stuck to the corner of her mouth. "You don't?"

Now it was Suho's turn to laugh. "Where am I going to get a girlfriend when I have been stuck on life support for the past two years?" Sieun frowned. It was an awful, awful feeling imagining Suho with a girlfriend, but Sieun knew for a fact that Suho could get a girlfriend without even having to try. He was that attractive.

Young-yi shook her head. "No- That's not what I meant. I meant like-" She looked at both of them, and pointed her chin at Sieun. Sieun confusedly stared back. "-partner," she finished, and the implication finally caught up to Sieun.

He felt all the blood rush to his face, painting it in a blotchy red. She thought we were dating, his mind was screaming, and the worst part was, he didn't seem to mind. He didn't mind at all.

Sieun turned to look at Suho, and saw that his face was just as red as Sieun's own face felt. He had his mouth open in half a gasp, eyes wide open. Sieun wondered if it was from shock or disgust, and hoped it was only the former.

Young-yi must have realised after their reaction that she had been wrong. Sieun thought she might apologise, maybe, but she only looked at Suho with a disappointed glare. Suho glared right back, face still red, and unhooked his leg from Sieun to kick Young-yi in the shin. Sieun mourned the loss, and then immediately felt embarassed of that thought.

Sieun got up quietly. "I'll-" he pointed in the general direction of the washroom. "I'll be right back."

He didn't wait for an answer, and went as casually as he could into the washroom. As soon as the door shut, he opened the tap to splash cold, cold water on his face.

His face still looked so red, and he flushed even more from embarrassment. Young-yi certainly would've noticed, she never let such things go. He splashed even more water onto his face, hoping the cold of the water would fight off some of the heat clinging to his cheeks.

Sieun finally stepped out of the washroom after what felt like a moment too long. When he entered back into the living room, he saw Suho and Young-yi were still deep in conversation. He noted that Suho's cheeks were still red.

When he slid back into his chair, the topic shifted back to something mundane. Sieun wondered if they had changed the topic because he'd come back. He didn't know what to feel about that.

Easy conversation flowed once again, but the ankle didn't return to hook around Sieun's. Sieun silently ate his rice, and jjigae, swallowed down spoonfuls of ox-bone soup without saying anything.

Suho glanced at his way multiple times, silently asking if he were fine, and he nodded each time, telling him to continue eating. It didn't stop him from looking his way anyway, but Sieun appreciated it.

"Well," Young-yi said, hours after having finished her plate clean. "I'd better get going now. I stayed too long."

Suho shook his head good-naturedly. "Not at all. I really liked talking to you again."

Young-yi reached forward to squeeze Suho's arm, a genuine smile on her face. "Next time come visit my place," she offered, and Suho happily nodded in ascent.

While Sieun walked her to the door, Suho busied himself in the kitchen. Sieun looked at him questioningly, but Suho didn't say anything, just flashed his two fingers at him, as if asking for two more minutes.

"Young-yi!" Suho called out, right when she stepped out of the door. "Here's some soup for you and your girlfriend. We have lots of leftovers anyway."

Young-yi looked at Suho with stars in her eyes, and Sieun smiled as well. He was always so thoughtful, so kind. It was inevitable that Sieun would fall in love.

Young-yi left then, a happy grin on her face, and a promise for an even bigger feast at her place told to both of them. Sieun closed the door with a smile, and silently went to gather all the dishes and pots to clean in the sink.

Suho followed right after, dish cloth in hand, coming to stand right beside him to wash the dishes.

"You don't need to help," Sieun told him, as he started scrubbing the first plate. "You were the one to cook. I'll clean." 

"It's fine," Suho reassured with a grin. "You help me cook any other day, so I can help with this."

Sieun sighed. "Then I'll clean, and you dry," he said, pointing to the dish cloth in his hand.

Suho shrugged, small smile on his lips. "Okay."

They silently went through with their chore, a methodic process of scrubbing, washing, and passing. Neither of them said a word.

Suho bumped his hip against Sieun's. "Why were you so quiet during lunch."

Sieun stilled. Then went to continue washing the pot in his hand. "I'm always quiet."

"You are," Suho agreed. "But not like this."

Sieun thought of denying, claiming that Suho was just reading too much into it and Sieun was being just like his normal self. But Suho wasn't wrong, and Sieun didn't want to lie, so he sighed, scrubbed at the pot, and asked, "What were you talking about when I went to the washroom?"

Surprise coloured Suho's face. He blinked once and didn't say anything for a while. Sieun sighed, and went back to scrubbing at the pot.

"Young-yi says I'm in love with you," Suho finally said.

Sieun sucked in a breath, his head going light, and all he could hear after was the dripping water of the unclosed tap, and his own breath stuttering out of him. Suho looked wholly unaffected, quietly drying the plates. The only clue that pointed towards him being just as nervous was how tightly he was holding the cloth in his hand.

Sieun swallowed. Gnawed at his lower lip. "Are you?" he asked, barely in a whisper, hesitant.

Suho looked at him now, head turned towards him, and eyes soft. "Am I?" he asked in the same tone as Sieun's, barely a whisper, voice a rasp, and that infuriating tongue poking his cheek.

Sieun was never an impulsive person, he rarely made decisions on the whim. He calculated the consequences and only then went along with it. But, or course, the only exception was always Suho.

So, Sieun let the pot in his hand drop, glad that it was steel and not ceramic, and stepped forward.

In the seconds it took for the sound of the pot hitting the sink to stop echoing, Sieun had already gathered the fabric of the T-shirt Suho was wearing, his T-shirt, and pressed their mouths together, to the ringing of steel against steel.

Suho was quick to respond, but he wasn't as reckless, putting the plates down gently on the counter, before quickly wrapping his arms around Sieun's waist, pressing him in until every inch of his body was up against Suho's.

Sieun's mouth opened in a gasp as Suho's cold, wet fingers trailed under his T-shirt, touching his bare waist with featherlight pressure, leaving goosebumps in its trail. Suho licked into his open mouth, teeth nipping at his bottom lip, teasing him.

Sieun pulled his hands away from Suho's collar, and buried them in Suho's hair, soft to touch, and easy to tug. When Suho's teasing bite got a little too close to pain, Sieun tugged at his hair, and let out a shuddering groan at the dirty sound Suho made at that.

Suho drifted to his neck after that, bending down to leave kisses down his jaw to the junction where his neck met his shoulder, but Sieun was shorter than Suho, roughly half a head shorter, and it must've been difficult for Suho to bend down so much to kiss him. Sieun was about to pull away, just so he could suggest giving Suho's neck a rest, but Suho's hands slipped down from under his shirt to settle right beneath his ass, and lifted him up onto the kitchen counter.

The counter was slightly wet, and Sieun was sure his pants would get wet, too, but he couldn't even bring himself to bother about that, not when Suho's mouth was back on his.

Sieun tugged at Suho's hair, relished in the sounds Suho made, low and filthy. He drank it in. He felt high, drunk on him— on his hands, his lips, and how he smiled into the kiss. Maybe this was what being intoxicated felt like. But even that word felt too shallow for this joy.

Sieun was laughing then, short gasps of air pushing out of his lips in a smile, and soon Suho joined him, too, laughing with a trembling smile, forehead pressed to Sieun's. They were sneaking kisses between laughs now; a soft press of lips, chaste and unhurried.

Between breaths and kisses, Sieun gathered his thoughts, drank in the sight of Suho in front of him, hair tousled, and lips kissed red, and he knew without an ounce of uncertainty that he loved him.

"I love you," he whispered into the bubble between them, in their quiet kitchen with the dripping tap and open window, sun filtering through and making Suho seem ethereal.

Suho smiled, eyes forming crescents, and Sieun felt his own eyes lift, too. "I know," he said, with a pleased smirk. Sieun huffed a laugh, and leaned in to bite his lip just like Suho did, caught between his teeth, tongue coming out to lick off the pain. He was a good student.

"I love you, too," Suho admitted between laughs, kissing him gently, deeply, and in all the ways that he knew. "I love you so much, Sieun-ah, you don't know."

Sieun thought he knew. He knew very well. He thought of all the fights he had gotten into, all the days he had spent sitting outside his hospital room waiting for something, anything, to happen just so he could be with Suho again. He knew very well.

"Maybe you don't know how much I love you," Sieun said, tacking on a, "Suho-yah," and watching, pleased, as Suho's eyes visibly dilated in the streaming sunlight.

Suho let out a shuddering breath. Sieun wondered how he could have such an effect on someone so perfect. "Maybe we both know," Suho said, locking his eyes with Sieun's. 

Sieun smiled gently, sighed out a laugh, and nodded. "Yeah," he admitted, brushing his thumb against Suho's cheek. "I think we've always known."

When they woke the next morning, it was much like any other morning, but this time Sieun didn't startle at the tight grip around his waist, and the warm finger drawing mindless figures on his bare shoulder. 

Sieun sighed sleepily, but didn't shift from his position. He tried to focus on what the finger was drawing on his shoulder, but they blurred into nonsense in his sleep-addled mind.

"What are you drawing?" he finally asked, barely a murmur. He was sleepy.

Suho's finger continued moving. Sieun shivered with how pleasant it felt to have his warm finger trail down his cold skin. 

"I'm writing your name," Suho replied a beat later, ending his drawing in a flourish, finger pulling from his shoulder to the nape of his neck. Suho leaned forward, breath fanning Sieun's ear. "Should I write mine, too?"

Sieun hummed, a low sound in the back of his throat, a smile tugging at his lips. "Wouldn't it get crowded?" he asked, voice slurred by sleep.

"No," Suho whispered, palm smoothing down the skin on Sieun's shoulder, as if wiping the slate clean. He started writing again, probably his own name. "You have plenty of space. All mine." Sieun could hear the grin in his voice.

Sieun buried his face in his pillow, hiding his smile in it. "That's cheesy."

Suho hummed happily, and Sieun could hear the smile on his face. He let his body relax onto the sheets again, picturing how Suho's long finger traced letters on his skin, gentle in their movement. He could almost see the letters spelt out, written right on his skin.

Suho leaned forward finally, after being done with his writing. He buried his nose in Sieun's neck, hands tightening around his waist, and settled there for a while, breath evening out in small puffs. Sieun thought he'd fallen asleep.

"You're cold," Suho noted suddenly, though he didn't seem to be complaining, his nose nuzzling Sieun's neck. 

"You're warm," Sieun stated back, his free hand settling on Suho's, squeezing it gently, hot on cold. "Equilibrium."

Suho huffed out a laugh, and Sieun knew he had a wide grin on his face because he could acutely feel the curve of Suho's lips against his neck. "Bookworm," Suho fondly murmured into his skin.

And in that moment— with Suho pressed firmly against his back, morning light gently streaming through, and the phantom feeling of both their names etched on his skin— Sieun felt truly at peace. Like a constant in an equation, Suho's strong arm anchored him, held him. He knew then he could live forever like this, at home anywhere where Suho was, warm, present, and by his side, because Suho was it— his equilibrium, his gravity, his home.