Work Text:
(idk why there's a random man in the corner)
The room was painted in the warm glow of the Christmas tree, the corner decorated in red and green.
“Don’t change the movie just yet,” Joshua grumbled against Jeonghan’s chest. His voice mingled with the rhythm of Jeonghan’s heartbeat, a comforting drum to his ears. He then sat up, the side of his face catching the flickering white and red silhouettes of the TV screen. His lips parted, and eyes focused, “This is the best part.”
Jeonghan didn’t say anything, his eyes a constant, soft gaze on Joshua. The movie was already forgotten; his own desires and needs were a distant choir in the mere presence of Joshua’s harmony. Whatever Joshua wanted was his want and hope. He watched as the light brushed across his eyes, tumbling down his eyelashes, then on his cheekbones. Jeonghan’s hands yield to touch him, just to know the reality of Joshua under his skin.
Joshua leaned closer with determined eyes, “I won’t sleep this time,” he declared. Jeonghan had heard this promise before. It was their game, a ritual who would wish the other Merry Christmas first. Jeonghan had been the undefeated champion for years.
“I’ll be the first one to wish you Christmas this year,” his tone a low murmur, but Jeonghan was in a perfect proximity to catch the sheer deceptive conviction and a slow yawn in his voice.
“Okay,” A smile touched Jeonghan’s lips. His arms almost instinctively tightened around Joshua, pulling him back down to the poem of his arms. The couch felt infinitely large.
“I’m serious, Han-ah,” Joshua settled again, snuggling closer. His words slurred with sleep.
Jeonghan hummed in response, his fingers finding meaning in threading Joshua’s hair, a practised, soothing motion. The tense line of Joshua’s shoulders softened, melting into Jeonghan’s side. And soon he felt the warm and soft breath on his collarbone.
Joshua was already asleep.
His head a constant weight on Jeonghan’s. He slept like he forgave the world. He forgave it for the harshness it had to offer and the ordeal he had suffered. Like Jeonghan’s arm was the safest place on earth. Joshua often said this, “Jeonghana, I like this because of you.” An act of devotion. The urge to show Jeonghan everything and anything that piqued his interest. Jeonghan loved that with every fibre of his being
Jeonghan took his hand in his, tracing the shape of it with the warmth of his palms. He laced their fingers together, feeling the weight of it against his own. They were unbelievably darling.
The concept of God and heaven seemed so absurd until the hands you held felt like praying, and every moment with each other was the closest thing to heaven you would ever have. For Jeonghan, Joshua was his religion, his poem, his heaven.
Joshua’s fingers curled around the silk of Jeonghan’s shirt, a need to hold him even in dreams. As if the moment was so frail it would fleet without the grasp of the world in his palms. The dim glow of TV screen painted Joshua’s face in sapphire, his face seeped out of its previous determination, leaving him looking boyish, undone, and unwary.
Jeonghan pressed his lips against the back of Joshua’s hands. How could Joshua trust him with everything?
The movie was rolling the credits scene, the light music filled the room beside the soft breathing of Joshua. The screen finally went dark, the Christmas tree’s light the only thing that lit up the room. Jeonghan reached for the blanket by his feet and drew it over both of them.
He leaned down, a gentle press of his lips on Joshua’s forehead, inhaling the familiar scent of him, a mix of his expensive shampoo with the faint hint of cocoa they’d shared a couple of hours ago.
“Merry Christmas, Joshuji,” he whispered into the dark. The words were a secret gift. Only meant for him. Then he rested his own head on top of Joshua’s. The world felt like it belonged to them; it expanded in those four walls and ended there. Jeonghan lulled to sleep as he found himself being wrapped in the warmth of Joshua.
Joshua was the first one to wake up. A slow, triumphant smile spread across his face, and then he carefully shifted just enough to press a soft, lingering kiss on Jeonghan’s lips.
“Hey.” He whispered, his voice laced with sleep, with a hint of brimming joy. “Merry Christmas, Hannie.”
And as Jeonghan’s eyes fluttered open, meeting his own, Joshua knew, with a heart so full it ached, that he’d kept his promise after all.