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I know a place where the sun is like gold,
And the cherry blooms burst with snow,
And down underneath in the lovliest nook,
Where the four-leaved clovers grow.
One leaf is for hope, and one is for faith,
And one for love, you know,
And God put another one in for luck,
If you search you will find where they grow.
But you must have hope, and you must have faith,
You must love and be strong—and so,
If you work, if you wait, you will find the place,
Where the four-leaved clovers grow.
— Ella Higginson, “Four Leaf Clover”, 1901
1. hope
Afterwards, when the elation of being selected for the debut group has subsided, Yu feels an ice-cold, paralysing fear settle in his body. He carries it with him all the way up until the debut showcase where he performs with a shivering heart and stiff limbs, and he walks away with regret, knowing that he could have done better. He can and will do better.
Geon is the first person he admits it to, that sometimes he is afraid, that sometimes he’s scared that they’ll never be successful enough, that he’ll let everyone that believes in him down. It’s mostly because he doesn’t want to burden Tomoya with more things to worry about than being their leader, but it’s also mostly because it’s Geonie, and it’s easy to talk to him, even about things like this.
If Yu could describe Geon in one word, it would be warmth. Aside from practically being a human heater when he sidles up to Yu in his bed at night, his presence itself is warm. Geon eases Yu’s worries by sharing some of his own, and they comfort each other with words that are probably too embarrassing to say in the day. There are countless nights spent like that, two scared teenage boys whispering into the dark, sharing a pillow and their anxieties, and over time, Yu feels the cold fear gripping onto his heart slowly melt away.
Yu thinks that the very first night Geon climbed into his bed, the night they talked until dawn like they were fated strangers, was the first moment in which he was doomed.
Being attracted to another boy isn't necessarily what makes a mess of Yu’s head, although maybe it is part of it. No, what is mostly tangling his thoughts is Geon himself. Geon’s smile like sunlight, his laugh falling like its blinding rays, his eyes lit up from within, vein by vein, radiating outwards. It makes Yu want to spread out his metaphorical peacock feathers and soak up the warmth, bathe in the addictive glow. It’s becoming a problem. Yu has never been particularly good at solving problems without using brute force.
He’s still thinking about it during an outdoor shoot, where he and the boys are sweltering in the summer heat. Yu is lingering in front of a large fan near the craft services tent and chewing on a cup of ice. He tries to replace the image of Geon in his head with someone else, maybe a nice girl instead, but immediately gets irritated at his own imagined infidelity.
Tomoya and Geon come bounding over after having finished their unit shoot, and Yu is instantly distracted by the way sweat shines off Geon’s skin, somehow making him look like a sinful work of art instead of a sticky mess. Geon plasters himself to the large fan and lets out a loud moan that has Yu’s head start buzzing.
“I think I’m dying,” Geon says. He sticks his face in front of the moving blades so that his voice comes out warbled on the other side, “I’m me-e-el-ti-i-i-ng.”
“You’ve worked hard,” Tomoya says while laughing, clapping Geon lightly on the back. Yu stares at the invisible imprint of Tomoya’s hand on Geon’s spine. There’s a bead of sweat running down the back of Geon’s neck and Yu reaches over to wipe it away without thinking. His finger tingles at the touch.
“What is this?” Tomoya interrupts Yu’s reverie by taking the cup of ice out of his hand. “You know this is bad for your teeth, right?” He proceeds to crunch loudly on an ice cube. Yu stares at him, unimpressed.
“Yu-hyung,” Tomoya starts up again, “You look very handsome.” He gives Yu’s outfit a once-over, followed by an enthusiastic thumbs-up, his head nodding like a pecking bird. Yu knows immediately that Tomoya is fishing at compliments for himself, he even steps back to show off his outfit, wiggling his limbs like a strange bipedal penguin.
“And you look like an idiot,” Yu says dryly and takes back his cup of ice from Tomoya. Most of it has melted down, and Yu swallows the cold water, trying to pretend the sudden dryness of his throat has nothing to do with a certain someone still clinging to a whirring fan.
“Yu-ah,” the certain someone says, stepping back from the fan so that his hair flutters gently in the artificial wind, “What about me?” Geon beams up at Yu, waiting expectantly for a compliment as if he hadn’t already told Geon he looked nice earlier, when they finished getting their hair and makeup done.
Yu is vaguely aware of an indulgent smile creeping onto his face, but it is thankfully obscured by the harsh sun beating down. His eyes squint in the light as he pretends to give Geon a thorough praise-over, as if the afterimage of Geon isn’t permanently etched into his retinas. He doesn’t mind though, he thinks he could stare into this bright light forever, even if he eventually ends up blind.
Yu doesn’t know how to put all of this into words, so he simply tells Geon that he looks pretty. The smile Geon gives him doesn’t burn any less brightly than the sun, and over the sound of Tomoya’s indignant squawking, something in Yu’s heart throbs and aches.
The problem is that the relationship, the friendship, he has with Geon is good. It does them both good. It makes Yu feel horribly wrong and selfish about wanting more from Geon, more with him. He wants to be able to pull Geon into his arms, for it to mean something different than when they’re messing around, he wants to be able to hold Geon’s hand and maybe kiss him afterwards, or whenever he wants. Because God, does he want.
Maybe the problem is that Geon often acts in a way that makes Yu think he isn’t entirely insane, for feeling this way. Because Geon will drape his body around him when they’re idling around, he will sleep in Yu’s bed and compliment his food, and he will make special handshakes with Yu that are meant for just him and Yu. These could all mean things that Yu wants them to mean, or they could not.
But hope is a drug, isn’t it? Yu does his best to wean off it on his best days, when the sting of reality is particularly harsh, but addiction is a difficult cycle to break. Geon is a fiend for attention, and Yu is powerless to do anything but give it to him. It’s not right either, for Yu to feel jealousy curdle in his stomach when Geon gets his fix from someone else.
When Yu gets back to the dorm after a lesson, he finds half the members piled on Tomoya’s bed in the living room, playing video games on the smaller TV. He can smell takeout wafting from the kitchen, along with Yuki’s worried voice, wondering if the ramen is overcooked.
Yu toes his shoes off by the front door and there's a burst of loud noise, followed by the tell-tale game over sound and Haru’s subsequent yelling. On top of celebrating his win, Geon starts mocking Haru’s defeat and immediately gets put into a headlock for his efforts. Tomoya, having been seated in between them and crowing delightedly at their gameplay, gets caught in the crossfire. Yu’s gaze is all but zeroed in on Geon’s laughing face, clearly delighted from baiting a reaction out of Haru. Even amongst flailing limbs and jabbing elbows, Geon is still so devastatingly beautiful. Yu’s chest feels like it’s burning, it feels like a dying star.
Tomoya notices Yu’s arrival first. He calls out to him, voice sounding slightly strangled from where he’s being squashed by Haru and Geon, which Yu privately thinks is karma for riling them both up. Geon instantly wriggles out of Haru’s grip and bounces over to Yu, greeting him enthusiastically. Yu smiles at the younger boy instinctively. His stomach clenches, then unclenches.
Yu knows he has no monopoly on the sun, no matter how much he wants to draw its warmth into his heart and possess it entirely. Because the sun is very generous and spends its time with everyone, it does not shine solely for him. Amongst the flowers and the trees and the clovers, he is a very ordinary person swaying with the masses.
But he has fallen in love with the sun.
2. faith
Faith has always been a strange dichotomous concept for Yu. He doesn’t believe in God, but he believes in the gods his mother prays to on evenings before his performances and shows. He doesn’t believe in ghosts, but he believes in the demonic yōkai stories that are mostly made for scaring small children. He doesn’t believe in miracles, but he believes in his members, that everything they’ve achieved thus far is nothing short of a miracle.
There was a time in which Yu didn’t have much faith in himself, in his abilities. But that was before he met the other members on the survival show, before he met Geon, before he witnessed the miracle he made out of sheer willpower. Yu thinks it’s a shame in hindsight, that he and Geon only got close after they were chosen to debut together. Sometimes, Yu thinks it would be easier if it were love at first sight, then maybe he could pretend his feelings are born out of infatuation, rather than the knowledge that the rough edges of his and Geon’s souls slot perfectly together when fitted side by side.
In a waiting room, in a city whose name is unimportant, Geon comes over to the armchair Yu is lounging in and plants himself in his lap. Yu’s arms instantly go to wrap around Geon’s waist, and they shuffle themselves so that Geon can sit comfortably between Yu’s thighs, bodies bracketing together like perfect puzzle pieces. Geon rolls his head back to rest on Yu’s shoulder, his hair tickling the side of Yu’s throat.
“Tired?” Yu asks, watching the tiny hairs stand up on the shell of Geon’s ear. The younger boy responds with a confirming hum.
Across from them, Seita is primly eating yogurt with a contemplative expression, “You know there are other seats, right?”
Yu and Geon both look around at where Seita’s little plastic spoon is pointing. There are actually an abundance of empty seats, but Yu’s only response is to tighten his arms around Geon’s waist, pulling his body flush against his chest.
“Why would I sit somewhere else?” Geon voices Yu’s thoughts out loud, “Yu-hyung’s lap is very comfortable.”
Yu nods at Seita and rests his chin on Geon’s shoulder, pretending like his words don’t make him preen like the cat that got the cream, “I’ve been told that I’m a top-tier chair.”
Geon turns towards him and frowns, “Who has been telling you that?”
“Nobody, you’re the only one. I promise,” Yu immediately placates him, even though he knows the jealousy Geon is broadcasting is designed as a joke.
Geon wraps an arm around Yu’s neck in an imitation of a chokehold, “Exactly. That’s what I thought.”
Yu laughs, and his arm reaches up to grab Geon’s hand in defence, even as his head moves along with Geon’s gentle pull willingly, so that he ends up half under Geon’s chin. Their bodies sway like willows in the breeze as their arms fight for dominance, until Geon is protesting that his hair and makeup is getting messed up by Yu’s antics—antics that he started, mind you.
Seita stands up with his now-empty yogurt cup, “I feel like I shouldn’t be here.” And walks away, presumably to find any of the other members to get exasperated by.
Geon’s laughter vibrates under Yu’s touch as they both settle back down. “Look what you’ve done,” he says accusingly to Yu, “Scaring people away with your face.”
Yu pinches the side of Geon’s waist and gets a satisfying yelp in response, “What did I do? You were the one that started it.” Yu wonders, what it is about Geon that has him behaving like a five-year-old child sometimes.
“Me?” Geon squirms in Yu’s hold, “I didn’t do anything.” When Yu looks at Geon’s face, it’s the perfect picture of innocence, and Yu can’t help but laugh at his shamelessness.
“You really are a piece of work, you know,” Yu tells him, ducking his head to hide the fond smile blooming on his face.
“Yeah? A work of art, you mean?" Geon retorts, and gives Yu a frankly adorable grin that has him reaching out and pinching his cheek.
Yu shakes his head no just to disagree with him, because sometimes bickering is the only language he knows how to speak with Geon, if only to stop himself from revealing too much. Geon makes an affronted noise and smacks Yu on the arm, but it feels more like a puppy’s paw, scratching gently at a burning itch in his heart.
Maybe faith is also Geon’s constant need to, and the ease in which he gets under Yu’s skin. It’s something Yu knows won’t go away easily, this constant cycle of push and pull that has Yu willingly trapped by its design.
Maybe faith isn’t anything Yu knows how to define. It’s lost somewhere in the way Yu’s eyes always look towards Geon in a crowded room, waiting for him to look back. Maybe faith is Yu’s hand reaching out across empty bedsheets when Geon wasn’t in them for three nights, and the loneliness that consumed him left him feeling cold and bereft.
Faith is Yu promising to himself that he will still be there, by Geon’s side if he lets him, in any way that he allows, and faith is knowing with a heavy heart, that it would be enough. It has to be.
3. love
Yu first learnt the phrase 소확행/sohwakhaeng, meaning small but certain happiness, in Korean class, before discovering the term has its origins in Japanese. 小確幸/Shōkakkō is the essence of pausing to enjoy the small moments of happiness in life: to take in the smell of freshly baked bread; to look for clovers in the spring; to chase the sound of the ocean and the salt in the breeze; to watch the first snow and taste the different snowflake shapes with his tongue. Yu likes that he can use the term interchangeably in the two languages he knows.
Rooming with Geon feels like having small moments of happiness all to himself, all the time. Coming home after a long, grueling day to unwind together is the sort of intimacy Yu had never imagined he would share with another person until far, far, into the future.
When Yu and Geon finally approach re-decorating their shared room and Yu brings up the idea of withgoing separate beds to buy a queen-sized one to share, he’s strangely nervous about it. He rationalises his proposal by saying it’s an economic use of space, ignoring that for the past year or so, they’ve been treating each other’s beds like it’s their own.
“Actually I don't remember the last time I slept in my own bed,” Geon says.
The two of them are lying sprawled across the mattresses in the living room, where there used to be six of them lined up in a row, with Geon the only one too lazy to drag his along too. But now that summer is over and Haru got tired of tripping over the mess on the floor, most of the members have taken their mattresses and retreated back to their rooms, leaving Tomoya and Yu’s remaining ones looking a little sad and out of place.
Along with the colder weather, and Tomoya’s frankly nocturnal sleep patterns, it’s prompted Yu and Geon to think about re-habitating their bedroom instead of lingering in the living room like Tomoya seems inclined to do forever.
“Does that mean we have to buy a bigger mattress for Yuki too?” Geon wonders aloud.
Yu pauses, having momentarily forgotten about their other roommate, and says, “The kid has his own money, doesn't he?”
Geon laughs loudly, before suddenly letting out an even louder, startling shriek. Yu turns around to find the kid in question standing in the hallway. He startles in shock at Yuki’s sudden appearance and Geon immediately points and laughs at Yu’s fright, as if he wasn't scared senseless a second ago too.
“Were you talking about me?” Yuki asks, looking a little perplexed.
“We were talking about buying bigger beds for our room,” Yu says, after his heart-rate has slowed back down to an unalarming pace.
“Oh! Really?” Yuki perks up, seeming to be endearingly excited at having his roommates back in what has been a solitary place for some time. He then tilts his head to one side and says, “But it’s going to be tough to fit three big beds in there.”
“No, we only need to fit two beds,” Geon corrects, which only succeeds in making Yuki look even more confused.
“But don’t worry, you can have a large bed too,” Geon adds on, as if that was the clarification Yuki needed. Yu feels his heart-rate staccato once more as he physically sees the gears turning in Yuki’s head. Selfishly, he doesn’t want him to voice out loud the abject strangeness of two people committing to sharing a bed to this degree.
But Yuki only pauses for a moment before nodding twice and saying succinctly, “That sounds good.” Then as an afterthought, “I’ll look for some options too.” Which Yu knows he won’t. Yuki gives them a dimpled smile and proceeds to scuttle back into their bedroom as quickly as he came, making Yu wonder why he ventured outside in the first place.
“Our maknae is so strange,” Geon muses at Yuki’s retreating back.
“Don't say that about my son,” Yu defends, and he means it, privately relieved that Yuki didn’t say anything to make Geon rethink buying a bed together to share.
“Your son is a forty-year-old man,” Geon says flatly. Yu purses his lips and silently apologises to Yuki in his head, because he is simply unable to refute that.
The first night spent together in their new bed is the best night’s sleep Yu has had in a while. Most of it has to do with the quality of the new mattress, as Geon seems so inclined to boast about when he wakes Yu up excitedly in the morning.
Yu squints at Geon’s figure kneeling over him through bleary eyes. The younger boy seems uncharacteristically awake this morning, energy practically bouncing off his skin in blinding rays of light.
“Yu-ah, Yu-ah, this bed really is amazing,” Geon is saying, wiggling in place like an over-excited puppy.
“Mm,” Yu hums in agreement before his head falls back onto his pillow. His half-awake brain remembers that he doesn't have a schedule until later, so he’s not sure why Geon is disturbing his precious rest.
“Ah.” Yu hears Geon’s voice come out softly. There’s a gentle hand that pats the top of Yu’s head and Geon half-whispers, “Sleep well, Yu-hyung.” Subconsciously, Yu smiles into his pillow.
Yu’s eyes flutter back open when Geon’s warmth leaves the bed, feeling a little like he’s been robbed. He can tell that Geon is trying to keep quiet as he moves around, tiptoeing with light feet and closing the bathroom door softly, which Yu is devastatingly endeared by. Maybe it’s the softness of the early morning, but as Yu watches Geon with half-lidded eyes, he physically feels the affection swelling up inside his body like a tidal wave.
Yu thinks that this is happiness too. Love, that is. Because loving Geon is the easiest thing he has ever done. There is longing, yes, impatient yearning too, but never questioning. Loving Geon is an unavoidable consequence of knowing him. Everything from his smile, to the clumsy way in which he fails to keep quiet, tripping multiple times over the clothes and half-opened packages strewn across the floor. Yu will have to scold both Geon and Yuki later, for leaving their messes lying around.
Geon starts humming an upbeat tune under his breath, dancing with such little coordination that it would make you forget he does it for a living, and Yu’s smile grows wider. The love he feels is so all-encompassing, he thinks he could make a religion out of it.
But Yu isn't a saint, and he doesn't want to worship Geon like one either. He loves him like a flower loves the sun, naturally as it comes, swaying gently towards him in the spring.
I love you, I love you, I love you, Yu thinks as he continues to watch Geon bustle around in the early morning light. He repeats the words in his head until he falls back asleep, until he forgets he’s still not brave enough to say it out loud.
4. luck
Four is considered an unlucky number in most East Asian languages, including Japanese and Korean. But Yu is not like Yuki, who has a borderline obsessive relationship with homonyms, so he’s never been the type to think of the number four as synonymous with death.
Ever since he was a child, Yu has been obsessed with finding four-leaved clovers. It didn't matter if it were in his family’s back-garden, or the playground at school, or in the grassy field where they were shooting for their last comeback, and Geon spent the day goading him into a bet that eventually had a game console on the line. He hadn’t really expected Geon to pull through on his promise when Yu eventually found a four-leaved clover. The elation coursing through his veins was enough, when he ran over to show Geon his findings, feeling sheer delight at Geon’s astonished expression.
There are seven of them in NEXZ. Yu likes to think of them as seven lucky stars, each of their souls having traversed across dozens of billions of constellations in the universe to end up here, in the same place at the same time. Geon was the fourth person chosen for the group. Yu likes to think of him as their lucky clover.
Yu is using Geon’s stomach as a pillow as he watches back the latest bit of choreography he and Tomoya have been working on together. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Geon toss the book he was reading to the side with a loud huff.
“Yu,” Geon calls out. Yu is comparing two versions of the hook they practiced and answers with a distracted hum, “Hm?”
“Yu-uuu,” Geon repeats, emphasising the second syllable of his name like he tends to do when speaking Japanese. Yu pauses the video and looks over at Geon, always endeared by his ever-incessant need for attention.
There’s a slight hitch in Geon’s breath that would be indiscernible to anyone unattuned to his miniscule actions. Yu watches as Geon seems to freeze in place, and Yu would give anything to know what’s running through Geon’s head right now. There’s a slight pink flush travelling up the side of Geon’s face and resting gently on his cheeks. Geon’s mouth parts and he looks like he’s about to spill the secrets of the universe. Yu holds his breath, he’s thinking maybe, maybe, maybe.
But then Geon’s hands move to run through Yu’s hair, and he says, “Nothing. I just wanted to say your name.”
Yu blinks and the moment disappears. He lets out a bewildered laugh, smacking Geon on the stomach in gentle admonishment. He picks up his phone again before pausing, prepared to will away the hope bubbling inside of him, but there’s something else inside that’s telling him to look back, a tinny scream that sounds a little like Geon’s voice.
It could be luck, or it could be fate, that the two of them spent their whole lives inhabiting the same little archipelago of a country, only to end up in another country altogether, speaking a foreign language and feeling scared over the same things that are hard to name.
Yu takes a moment to reassess the strange expression on Geon’s face. It could be faith that they’ve ended up here, in the same position a dozen times over, sharing a bed and unwilling to let go of each other’s gaze. Neither of them have ever been very good at hiding their emotions. Geon is staring at him with wide eyes, pools of brown that contain everything Yu has ever been afraid to drown in. Yu makes a wish on a lucky clover and takes a plunge into the deep end.
“Geon-ah,” Yu says softly. It might be love, the precious four-letter word that’s so hard to say, but Yu knows that he’s broadcasting it anyway; it’s bleeding from every orifice of his face.
Yu moves in closer to Geon, watching as his pupils begin to dilate. Geon’s eyes are tracking over every inch of Yu’s face, looking like he’s seeing Yu for the first time. Yu’s lip twitches as he tries to stop a giddy smile from taking over his mouth, “Did you finally figure it out?”
“Figure what out?” Geon responds breathlessly. Yu is still a little scared to say anything out loud. His body seems to move of its own volition as he presses in closer. Yu brackets Geon with his arms, gently, slowly, muscles tense just in case Geon decides to push him away.
“Tell me to stop,” Yu whispers when there’s barely enough space left to go. He can feel the faint pressure of Geon’s breath on his lips and he’s begging internally, please don’t tell me to stop, please don’t turn away. When Geon shakes his head, Yu breathes out a relieved smile and leans in to close the distance.
Kissing Geon is better than everything he’s ever imagined, and more.
Even though their mouths move against each other clumsily, teeth clacking and noses bumping with inexperience and a little bit of desperation, it's so, so perfect that Yu is a little scared he's dreamt it all up. Geon tastes like toothpaste and happiness. Their hands grip and grasp at each other tightly, and with each kiss, they begin to move like one indiscernible body. Yu licks into Geon’s mouth and he tastes like sunlight.
Eventually, they do have to part for air and Yu does so regretfully, but Geon makes up for it by giving him a smile so wide and positively beautiful that Yu thinks he might be falling in love all over again.
“Geonie,” Yu sighs out and collapses into Geon’s neck. Something warm and fuzzy tingles inside of him when he smells the faint traces of his own shampoo in Geon’s hair. “Tell me I’m not dreaming,” Yu murmurs. He buries his nose into the base of Geon’s hair and presses faint kisses into the soft skin there.
He’s robbed of Geon’s delightful warmth when the younger boy rudely pushes him off his body, forcing Yu to hover above him, a distance away once more. Geon grabs Yu’s face with both hands and says like he just discovered the first gold mine in South Korea, “You like me.”
Yu is a little dumbfounded as his cheeks start getting squished by Geon’s hands, because he thought that was a little obvious, wasn’t it?
“No, like, you really, really, like me,” Geon is saying, continuing to mercilessly massage his cheeks with a shit-eating grin. Yu blinks at him, once, twice, before realising Geon is playing at their usual cat and mouse game, teasing him until he gets the reaction he wants. Yu narrows his eyes at Geon, and traces his hands down the sides of Geon’s waist, slowly, delicately, before attacking with pin-point precision.
“Ya! No, I’m sorry,” Geon immediately wheezes out, but it’s drowned out by the way they’re both laughing, full-body and shaking as they fall into the familiar rhythm they’ve always danced around each other within, it's etched into the very marrow of their bones.
“Hm? I don’t know if you are sorry,” Yu teases, smiling broadly, giggling like a schoolgirl as they tousle and tickle each other. He feels dizzy, he feels a little bit high off the endorphins running through his body. He’d been so afraid for so long that everything would change, that they would never be able go back to how they were as just friends.
“Yu– stop– I can’t breathe,” Geon is giggling out, and Yu is laughing so hard his stomach aches from the happiness. He takes advantage of Geon’s momentary lapse in awareness to grab at his wrists, pinning them above his head.
Yu’s breathing comes out heavy as their laughter dissipates slowly, realising the position they’ve ended up in. Yu stares down, entranced at the beautiful, smiling boy beneath him, admiring Geon’s pink-flushed cheeks, the laughter staining the corners his eyes.
“Hi,” Yu says softly, unable to come up with anything more astute.
“Hi yourself,” Geon says back, poking his tongue out in provocation.
“Nice comeback,” Yu retorts while smiling. He loosens his grip on Geon’s wrists, treading slow, gentle circles on the inside of them, delighted at the way in which Geon shivers at his touch.
Yu leans down again and smiles into the kiss when Geon meets him halfway. This time, they kiss each other slowly, savouring the feeling, and Yu feels like he could do this forever, he feels so bathed in warmth, he’s almost burning. Time slows down as they kiss and kiss and kiss each other, and Yu still thinks he might be dreaming, because the boy he loves is kissing him back, and he keeps on kissing him too.
Yu nudges Geon’s nose with his own and gives the tip of it a gentle kiss. He has never made a habit out of being gentle with his affection, often pouring it out aggressively in the form of roughhousing, but there’s a beautiful boy lying beneath him, and his smiling eyes are shining with happiness, and he makes Yu want to be gentle with him.
“You’re not dreaming,” Geon says, using a hand to lightly trace over Yu’s cheekbones. Yu pauses, only just remembering his kiss-drunk plea from earlier.
Yu laughs softly, “Good.” He nips at Geon’s bottom lip gently, before wrapping his arms around Geon’s body and manoeuvring them so that they’re lying side by side, sharing the same pillow. Geon tucks his head into Yu’s shoulder so that Yu can press a gentle kiss into Geon’s tousled head of hair.
“I’m really fucking glad,” Yu whispers, and it sounds like I love you.