Chapter Text
WHEN YOU'RE DEFIANT, it's usually out of pettiness. Though you aren't directly opposed to it, there's lingering annoyance in your demenor. Vernon knows that when your chin turns away from him, it's a disapproval of your loss in rock-paper-scissors. Well, losers weepers.
"So, I guess it's pasta tonight," he says, following behind you. You can hear the cheekiness in his voice, that of a winner's tone.
You slow down your strides on the sidewalk, making room for him to walk beside you. "Guess so."
He's trying. He's really trying to resist the smile that creeps up on his face, but right now, you need coddling because you just lost a pizza night again.
At the crosswalk, Vernon notices the distance between you guys. He notices the stubbornness in your stance, the way your arms are crossed, and your pursed lips. For a second, he actually thinks you're upset, but he knows you well enough that you'd speak up if you had concerns.
"Why do you propose a game of rock-paper-scissors when you never win?" He asks. "You know, we could just get pizza--"
"That'd be cheating!" You exclaim. "And since you won fair and square, we should make… pasta."
Vernon only smirks, nodding to your words. "Right. It would be unfair since I won--even if I was offering to have your choice tonight."
"Exactly." You murmur, watching the crosswalk's signal.
He rolls his eyes, adjusting his leather jacket. Your eyes remain set on the light, avoiding his gaze.
When the signal changes, you’re just about to step forward before Vernon gently tugs at your waist, fingers hooking into your belt loop, making you catch your breath. He casually pulls you closer, then unhooks his fingers and throws his arm over your shoulders.
“You’re a sore loser,” he mutters closely, just loud enough for you to hear.
Your pace falters and becomes one with his, and despite his playful insult, you let one arm wrap behind his back. You exhale through your nose--half laugh and sigh. “Is that offer for my choice still available?”
Vernon clicks his tongue in disbelief, shaking his head. “Oh, I’m not too sure about that. You already turned it down and made a very good point on how that would be cheating.”
You glance up to be met with his dorky grin. “Yeah, you’re right. Pasta it is then…”
He tugs you closer, quickly pressing a kiss on the side of your head. “We’ll save pizza for next time, definitely. No games, alright?”
"Fine, no games." You giggle.
WHEN IT'S CROWDED, it's a mutual agreement that losing each other is the last thing you need happening. Whether it's a concert, downtown, or heck, even a rave, you both agree that you must stick together.
In the sea of bodies, Vernon navigates you to the nearest wall at some house party Mingyu invited you both to. The bass is not favourable. The songs pounding through the speakers are so loud that you don't even hear what reassuring comment Vernon makes every time he looks back at you.
You lip-read, I dislocated my shoulder, and you know that's not what he's really saying--it's the music's fault, you think to yourself. All you can do is nod awkwardly as he leads you in further.
It feels endless, the shoulder bumping and the occasional running into. Until it actually hits you, well, a body that is. You're inadvertently shoved back by a stranger who profusely apologizes once you catch your balance.
"No, no, it's okay, really!" You assure them. Except, it really wasn't okay. You've lost Vernon.
You don't remember feeling this nervous in a place like this. The bodies around you move like waves, not giving you a chance to look over them. And sure, you have been to parties like this before, but maybe you forgot what those are like without Vernon.
Let's find the nearest wall, was what he said before you entered the house. It plays over and over in your head until you feel something pull at your waist.
When you look to your side, Vernon's fingers hook into your belt loop, pulling you flush to his side. He slips his fingers out and places a hand on your lower back, ushering you to a more secluded area.
He lowers his head right by your ear, quietly whispering, "Are you okay?"
"Y-yeah, I'm okay," you whisper back. "Thanks, though. I was actually a bit freaked out when I couldn't see you anymore. It's crazy in there, I don't know where Mingyu would even enjoy himself."
"Beats me," he chuckles. "There's for sure way too many people in this house. No way that's allowed, right?"
You hum, the weight on you feeling a lot less now.
Vernon takes your hand into his, raising it up to his lips to lightly peck. "Let's just hold hands for the night so we don't lose each other again, okay?"
Gosh, if your heart could not feel even warmer than it already was, Vernon was there to prove you wrong.
WHEN HE NEEDS YOU, he'll never outwardly say it. It's not that he can't verbally express himself; it's just that this is a different feeling. Instead, he'll show you, or there will be signs that your boyfriend is craving your touch.
Whatever mundane chore you're doing right now, he's watching. Not watching how you handle the mugs--he's watching you.
As he shyly approaches the counter, he places his phone on the marble with a light thud to make his presence known, just so he doesn't startle you.
"Hey, Nonie," you chirp, placing the mug back down. Your attention averts to him, who is stalking closer until he stands on the opposite side of you.
"Hey," he quietly says, resting his lower back against the counter, "need help?"
You sigh, turning your back to continue sorting the cups. "No, I'm just about done now. Sleep well?"
"Mhm... yeah," Vernon mumbles, voice low. He shifts his body lazily against the counter, his hands acting as anchors on its edges. "Was kind of cold, though, y’know, since you woke up early ‘n left me." he adds, hoping you'd pick up on what he really means.
And here you are grinning to yourself because you know exactly what he wants--no, needs.
"Oh, I'm so sorry to hear that..." You say, giving him faux sympathy.
Vernon doesn't immediately respond, only letting out a scoff jokingly. He notices that you're not out of arm's reach, so with his hand raised, he sneaks his fingers into your belt loop, tugging you back lightly.
You're glad you aren't holding any glass cups because you barely manage to ground it on the counter before your back meets with his chest.
His head dips to your neck, lips brushing your skin, and he finally mutters, "You can make it up to me."
When he removes his fingers from your belt loop, you feel his hands grip each side of your waist, gently spinning you around so that you're facing him.
"That bad, huh?" You laugh, throwing your arms over his shoulders. "Since you're so cute, I might as well..."
Vernon flashes you his wide smile, hugging you closer. His head leans towards yours, capturing your lips with his. As his kiss deepens, it's a bit lazy but with intent, the kind that expresses himself without needing to say it out loud. Boy, is he glad to have you.