Chapter Text
Kim Kanghoon
The shift from being friends to us doesn’t happen overnight. Instead, it unfolds quietly in the stolen moments between schedules.
It starts small: those late-night texts checking in at 2 AM, the takeout meals eaten on the floor of a waiting room, or the unspoken decision to spend the night together simply because the idea of sleeping apart after a long, tiring day feels unbearable.
Morning in Seoul is usually gray, the light filtered through heavy pollution and thick blackout curtains. But inside the bedroom, the air feels golden and warm.
Kanghoon wakes up, not to an alarm, but to a presence—a comforting weight belongs to Kim Heechul.
It still surprises him—how a man who moves on stage like lightning becomes so impossibly solid when he sleeps. Heechul’s arm lies heavy across Kanghoon’s chest like a seatbelt, anchoring him; his face is nestled into the crook of Kanghoon’s neck, breath warm and steady against his skin.
For most his life, Kanghoon believed love was something you had to chase—loud, bright, and fleeting. Like a spotlight you had to fight to stand under.
But this? This isn’t a spotlight. It’s like gravity.
It is a quiet, forceful force that keeps you grounded—pulling you back whenever you drift too far, embracing you without ever asking to be seen.
Kanghoon shifts slightly, feeling a dryness in his throat. Heechul grumbles instantly, tightening his hold and burying his nose deeper into Kanghoon’s collarbone to chase the warmth.
"Don't go," Heechul mumbles, words blurred into the pillow.
"I’m just getting water, Hyung."
"No water. Just stay."
Kanghoon stops moving. He looks down at the top of Heechul’s head—the messy hair, the unguarded softness of his brow, the faint scent of shampoo lingering on the sheets.
In that moment of clarity, he realizes that Kim Heechul the Universe Star doesn’t exist in this bed.
To the world, he’s the loud, witty, untouchable idol. But here, in the soft dust of morning, he’s just a man who hates the cold and can’t stand the silence. A man who flew across the North Sea just to be with Kanghoon because he couldn't bear the distance.
And Kanghoon is the only one allowed to see this side of him.
"You’re a bit needy in the morning," Kanghoon whispers, a gentle smile touching his lips as he runs his hand down the curve of Heechul’s spine, feeling the tension melt away under his touch.
"I’m just recharging," Heechul argues weakly, his eyes still tightly shut. "You’re my battery. If you leave, I’ll turn off."
"Then I won't leave."
It’s a simple promise, spoken softly into the room. But, as the words settle, Kanghoon feels the last of his lingering insecurities fade away.
He isn't a burden or something weighing Heechul down. He is the anchor. The source of strength.
He is needed.
And with his star by his side, perhaps, his days—today and all the days after—will finally feel brighter.
Kim Heechul
Heechul isn't quite asleep, in fact, he hasn't been for a while.
He finds himself floating in that hazy, drifting space between consciousness and dreams, listening to the hum of the city outside and the steady beat of Kanghoon’s heart resting beneath his ear.
He hears Kanghoon’s soft whisper—“Then I won't leave”—and the words vibrate through Heechul’s chest, settling deeply within him like a comforting weight.
A faint smile tugged at the corner of Heechul's lips, pressed against the cotton of Kanghoon’s shirt.
Heechul wraps his arm more tightly around Kanghoon’s waist, terrified that if he were to let go, even for a moment, he might lose his grip on reality altogether.
For most his life, Heechul has been living life at full speed. Just like a star, he’s made of fire, forever expanding, constantly exploding, trying to keep the silence at bay. His mind spins in a chaotic blend of anxiety and punchlines that moved too fast to catch.
But here in this bed?
The spinning stops.
He burrows his face deeper into the warmth of Kanghoon’s neck, inhaling the familiar scent of his favourite body wash.
My Cloud, Heechul thinks, the name suddenly making a terrifyingly perfect sense.
He always believed he was the one protecting Kanghoon. Yet now, a sudden clarity washes over him, Kanghoon is the one who saves him. Kanghoon is the gentle layer that shields him from the blinding glare of his own life. He is the comforting shade, a presence where Heechul can finally close his eyes without seeing spots.
Calming. Cooling. Softening the sharp edges of his existence.
As he listens of the rhythm of Kanghoon’s breath harmonizing with his own, Heechul realizes something profound.
I am the one who has finally found my gravity.
It’s a gravity so powerful and absolute that makes him wonders how he ever survived without it.
This love doesn’t weight him down, instead, it’s the force that holding him together, keeping the scattered pieces of his life from drifting away.
"You’d better not," Heechul mumbles finally, his voice thick with sleep and honesty. "If you go, the sky falls."
He can see Kanghoon’s chest rise with a silent laugh, followed by a soothing motion of Kanghoon’s hand, gently stroking up and down his spine.
Heechul sighs deeply, the last of the tension melting away from his shoulders. Today, he doesn't need the spotlight or seeking for applause. He doesn't need to be the star.
He simply wants to stay here, safe and secured in the centre of his cloud, until the world decides it’s time to wake up.