Work Text:
The morning sunlight barely penetrates the thick living room blinds, casting the apartment in a muted, hazy gray. The space is completely enveloped in a tranquil stillness.
Ryujin slips out from beneath the warm duvet. As a freelance illustrator working from home, she technically dictates her own schedule, but her internal clock has long been permanently synchronized to her partner’s grueling deadlines. She pulls a worn cardigan over her shoulders and heads straight for the kitchen.
The routine is ingrained in her muscle memory by now. She fills the electric kettle, selects a chamomile tea bag, and retrieves a soft fleece blanket from the back of the sofa.
She walks toward the massive drafting table dominating the corner of their living space. It is a chaotic landscape of architectural ambition. Miniature balsa wood walls, tiny plastic foliage, stray X-Acto blades, and an ocean of discarded tracing paper cover every available inch.
Slumped dead in the center of the mess is Yeji.
The overly ambitious junior architect has pulled yet another all-nighter. Yeji is hunched forward in her rolling chair, her cheek pressed flush against a green self-healing cutting mat. Her arms are wrapped protectively around the base of a meticulously crafted scale model of a civic center. She is breathing evenly, deeply asleep, oblivious to the uncomfortable angle of her spine.
Ryujin lets out a soft sigh. She steps behind the rolling chair and gently drapes the fleece blanket over Yeji’s trembling shoulders.
Leaning down, Ryujin carefully brushes a stray shaving of balsa wood out of Yeji’s hair. She notices the distinct, red indentation of a metal ruler pressed right into the soft skin of Yeji’s jawline. Ryujin reaches out, her thumb gently stroking the mark, attempting to rub the lingering pressure away. Then, she moves her hands to the back of Yeji’s neck.
The muscles there feel like tightly coiled wire. Ryujin presses her thumbs into the tense base of Yeji’s skull, applying a firm, methodical pressure. She works the knots out slowly, her fingers moving in steady circles.
This specific morning ritual took months to perfect.
When they initially moved into the shared apartment, Ryujin fought a losing battle against the drafting table. Waking up at three in the morning, she would stumble out of the bedroom, place a hand on Yeji’s shoulder, and beg her to come to bed. Yeji would merely shake her head, her eyes completely glazed over with absolute focus, mumbling the infamous excuse: "Just a little bit more, the facade isn't quite right."
Ryujin quickly learned that dragging an inspired architect away from her blueprints was a physically impossible task. So, rather than fighting the tide, Ryujin adapted. She let Yeji build her miniature worlds, and Ryujin focused on taking care of the creator. She became the silent guardian of the early hours, offering tea, blankets, and relieving the physical toll the desk took on Yeji's body.
But last week, the routine evolved into something entirely bizarre.
Yeji started sleep-talking.
It began randomly. Ryujin had been massaging Yeji’s shoulders when the architect suddenly bolted upright, her eyes remaining firmly shut, and mumbled a perfectly coherent sentence about load-bearing cantilever beams. Ryujin had frozen in place, assuming Yeji was fully awake and experiencing a work-induced panic attack. But Yeji had slumped right back down onto the desk, her breathing instantly evening out into a deep slumber.
Initially concerning, the phenomenon quickly became entertaining. Ryujin started humoring the babble. When Yeji would blindly fret about the tiny plastic citizens not having enough emergency exits, Ryujin would continue rubbing her shoulders and whisper back, "I added a fire escape to the east wing, they are perfectly safe." The tension would immediately visibly melt from Yeji's sleeping face. By the time Yeji finally blinked awake an hour later, stiff and completely disoriented, Ryujin was always standing by with a hot mug and a warm smile, acting as if nothing ridiculous had just occurred.
However, a few days ago, the babbling shifting it’s gears.
It was a Tuesday morning. The desk was messier than usual. As Ryujin pressed her thumbs into the tight tendons of Yeji’s neck, Yeji let out a long, heavy sigh against the cutting mat.
"Do you like it?" Yeji mumbled into the desk, her voice raspy and thick with exhaustion.
Ryujin didn't stop the massage. She leaned closer, her tone soothing and conversational. "Like what, babe? The new atrium layout? It looks great."
Yeji’s brow furrowed tightly in her sleep. She shifted her head, peeling her cheek off the mat. "No," she slurred slowly. "The wedding."
Ryujin stopped breathing.
Her hands completely froze against the back of Yeji’s neck. The air in the apartment suddenly felt incredibly thin. Ryujin blinked, staring down at the messy hair, her pulse instantly kicking into a frantic rhythm against her ribs.
"The... what?" Ryujin asked, her voice coming out as a strained, breathless whisper.
Yeji smacked her lips together lazily. "The structural integrity... too much fondant on the roof."
Pure, nonsensical gibberish. Having delivered her bizarre manifesto, Yeji promptly began lightly snoring, falling directly back into the depths of REM sleep.
Ryujin stood frozen behind the rolling chair for a full ten minutes. She was left alone in the hushed living room, staring at the back of her girlfriend's head, her mind violently spiraling.
For the next four days, Ryujin overthought everything.
She watched Yeji intensely. Every time Yeji offhandedly mentioned her "massive commercial project" or complained about needing extra drafting hours to secure a specific budget, Ryujin wondered if it was an elaborate cover story. But Yeji simply looked like a terribly overworked junior architect, running entirely on iced americanos and sheer ambition. The dark circles under Yeji’s eyes were completely real. By Friday, Ryujin managed to convince herself that the sleep-talking was exactly that—just random, meaningless neurons firing in a severely exhausted brain.
Then, Saturday evening arrives.
Ryujin expects the usual glow of the desk lamp to illuminate the living room well past midnight. She spends the evening in the kitchen, prepping a late-night snack, bracing herself for another long haul. But when she walks into the living space, the drafting table is completely dark. The apartment is silent.
Confused, Ryujin walks down the hallway. She pushes the bedroom door open.
The bedside lamp casts a warm, golden glow across the sheets. Yeji is already in bed. She is freshly showered, her hair damp and hanging loosely around her shoulders. She is propped up against the pillows, wearing a simple gray t-shirt, completely awake and watching the door.
It is only nine o'clock.
"You're done?" Ryujin asks, blinking in absolute bewilderment. She leans against the doorframe, holding a plate of sliced apples she had intended to leave on the cutting mat. "Did the firm burn down? Did you get fired?"
A soft, nervous smile tugs at the corners of Yeji’s mouth. "No. The model is finished. The blueprints are submitted."
"Oh," Ryujin breathes, a massive wave of relief washing over her. She sets the plate down on the dresser. "That's amazing. Finally."
Ryujin walks into the adjoining bathroom, mechanically going through her nightly skincare routine. Her mind is a little scrambled by the sudden shift in schedule, but she is grateful they finally get to share a mattress at a reasonable hour. She dries her face, turns off the bathroom light, and pads softly across the hardwood floorboards toward the bed.
She pulls the duvet back, preparing to slide in.
Before Ryujin can even settle her weight against the mattress, Yeji shifts. She sits up straighter, reaching over to the small drawer of her nightstand. Her hand is trembling just a fraction. When she turns back to face the center of the bed, she is holding a small, dark velvet box.
Ryujin’s heart executes a violent, physically painful stutter against her ribs.
The air leaves her lungs completely. She freezes with one knee on the mattress, her eyes locked on the velvet material.
Yeji takes a deep, slightly uneven breath. She opens the box. Nestled inside the satin lining is a delicate, beautifully cut diamond ring that catches the low, golden light of the bedside lamp.
"I'm sorry I've been so busy lately," Yeji says. Her voice is incredibly soft, completely stripped of its usual commanding, professional edge. She looks up, her eyes locking onto Ryujin’s wide, stunned gaze. "The big commercial project... I took on all the extra drafting hours voluntarily. I needed the commission bonus. I was preparing for this."
Ryujin stares at the ring. Her brain actively short-circuits. The sleep-talking from Tuesday morning crashes back into her mind with total clarity. It wasn't a random firing of exhausted neurons. It was a secret leaking out of a thoroughly overworked mind.
"Yeji," Ryujin whispers, the word completely cracking in the middle.
"I love you," Yeji continues, her thumb nervously brushing the edge of the velvet box. "I love that you never make me feel guilty for my ambition. I love that you stand behind my chair at dawn and pick wood shavings out of my hair. I want to build my entire life right next to you. Will you marry me?"
Ryujin looks at the deep, sincere exhaustion on Yeji’s face, eclipsed by the unwavering certainty in her eyes.
Ryujin doesn't even verbally say yes right away.
A wet laugh tears out of her throat. She abandons the edge of the duvet completely, practically launching herself forward. She straddles Yeji’s lap, knocking the pillows askew, and buries her face directly into the crook of Yeji’s neck. Her arms wrap tightly around Yeji’s shoulders, holding onto her with fierce devotion.
Yeji lets out a startled gasp that quickly melts into a bright, relieved laugh. She safely deposits the velvet box onto the mattress before wrapping her own arms securely around Ryujin’s waist, burying her face into Ryujin's shoulder.
"I'm taking that as a yes," Yeji murmurs against the skin, her voice thick with emotion.
"Obviously, it's a yes, you idiot," Ryujin replies, her voice muffled. She pulls back just enough to look at her fiancé’s face, a brilliant, teary smile completely taking over her own features. "Give me the ring."
-
The morning after feels different from the rest.
The sunlight spills generously over the mattress, completely unobstructed. There is no drafting table to tend to. There are no miniature balsa wood walls or X-Acto blades demanding attention.
Ryujin wakes up tangled in the sheets, her head resting comfortably on Yeji’s chest. She lifts her left hand, letting the morning light catch the facet of the diamond resting on her ring finger. She traces the cool metal with her thumb, a permanent, ridiculously fond smile plastered across her face.
Beneath her, Yeji stirs. The architect lets out a lazy, contented hum, her arm instinctively tightening around Ryujin’s waist. Yeji slowly opens her eyes, blinking against the bright room.
"Morning," Yeji rasps, her voice heavy with sleep. She glances down, catching sight of Ryujin admiring the ring. A smug, deeply satisfied smile curves her lips. "Looks good on you."
Ryujin rests her chin on Yeji’s chest, looking up with a mischievous glint in her eyes.
"It really does," Ryujin agrees smoothly. She taps a finger thoughtfully against Yeji’s collarbone. "I just have one question about the logistics of the ceremony, though."
Yeji raises an eyebrow, looking thoroughly confused. "Logistics? We literally got engaged ten hours ago. What logistics?"
"Well," Ryujin deadpans, her tone completely serious. "I just need to know if you've sorted out the structural integrity of the fondant. Because apparently, the roof cannot bear the load."
Yeji stares at her. A completely blank look of bewilderment washes over her face. "The... structural fondant?"
Ryujin can't hold the serious facade anymore. A ringing laugh bursts from her chest. "Tuesday morning! You completely spoiled the surprise in your sleep, Hwang Yeji."
Yeji’s eyes widen to an impossible degree. The confusion instantly morphs into unadulterated horror. A violent shade of red rushes up her neck, completely overtaking her ears.
"I did not," Yeji gasps, genuinely mortified. She brings both hands up to cover her flushed face. "Please tell me you are lying. I sleep-talked about the ring?"
"No, but you still leaked top-secret information," Ryujin nods mercilessly, still laughing as she pries Yeji’s hands away from her face. She leans down, pressing a firm, lingering kiss to Yeji’s deeply flushed cheek. "But I forgive you. Since the execution was still pretty flawless."
Yeji groans, burying her face into the pillows to hide her embarrassment, though she doesn't pull away when Ryujin slides closer to cage her in. Wrapped completely in the warmth of the bed, far away from the drafting table, the morning finally feels perfectly complete.