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The afternoon had settled into the highest hour of the day. The sun had reached its peak, and they felt a little at ease for not having anything to do that very day. With nowhere to go and no one at home, Hongjoong and Seonghwa comfortably sat in the living room. The curtains were half drawn, letting the afternoon sun peek through the sheer fabric. Beyond the premises of their own comfort, there were muffled noises of cars passing by and the murmurs of strangers on the street below.
Hongjoong sat lazily against the back of the sofa with one leg spread out while the other was folded beneath him, and Seonghwa was beside him, leaning against Hongjoong’s side with his eyes closed.
Seonghwa stirred from his sleep to the sound of faint rustling leaves outside, slowly shifting himself until his head rested against the back of the sofa, slightly leaning on Hongjoong’s shoulder.
There was silence between them, but neither felt the pressure to say anything. It was the comfortable heat from their own bodies and the breeze against their faces.
The quiet stretched longer in their own little world. Sometimes they stared into nothing and filled the spaces with soft hums, letting themselves complete each other with different ranges of harmonies.
Their hands had found each other somewhere in the middle of it.
Hongjoong’s fingers were loosely entwined with Seonghwa’s, unknowingly filling up the spaces in between. Their palms lay against the soft surface of the sofa. They laced their fingers as if it were their own quiet conversation, thumbs brushing over knuckles, loosening and intertwining again.
The breeze came in again, stronger this time as it lifted the curtains and carried the coolness of the air into the room. Strands of hair caught across Seonghwa’s face, and he blew at them himself, only for it to be in vain. Hongjoong reached out with his free hand toward Seonghwa’s face, gently catching the loose strands between his fingers. His fingertips lingered against Seonghwa’s skin, tracing the curves of his cheek. The touch was so absent-minded, as if it had a mind of its own.
He brushed the hair away and tucked it behind Seonghwa’s ear. Hongjoong let out a small sigh as he found himself caressing the back of his neck. As Seonghwa’s eyes opened at the warmth of his fingertips, he was met with Hongjoong’s gaze. They faintly smiled at each other before he went back to leaning his head against Hongjoong’s.
Just for a moment, Hongjoong found himself breathless. He was still staring at the man before him. Seonghwa’s lashes lowered whenever his mind drifted far away. Really, there was nothing grand happening and no reason for his chest to swell, and yet, there he was, finding trouble keeping himself from holding his breath.
This ordinary room that they had occupied countless times, the plushness of the sofa that had stayed in this room for years, and Seonghwa’s hand in his.
Hongjoong looked down at their hands, and there was a tug in his heart that ached painfully. Lucky, he thought. It arrived so simply that it startled him. He was lucky. Him, Kim Hongjoong, the man who had faults in every part of him, was lucky enough to be here in this moment.
After years of spending nights alone in his mind, with loud noises in his ears that only he could hear, he had not expected that this silence between them could feel like home. The screams in his head went silent, and the weight in his chest ceased to exist.
Seonghwa felt the heavy gaze and turned to Hongjoong.
“You’ve been staring.”
They smiled at each other.
“Yes, I did.”
Seonghwa let out a quiet laugh, so quiet that it only reached Hongjoong’s ears. He then moved closer so that he could rest his entire body against Hongjoong’s. Seonghwa snuggled his head into the crook of Hongjoong’s neck, and the man naturally laid his head on the crown of Seonghwa’s head.
Their hands were still entwined. Nothing changed, just that it got warmer between them.
Seonghwa broke the silence.
“What have you been doing lately?”
They brought their hands up toward them and played around with their laced fingers, occasionally slipping apart only to find each other again.
“It’s the same. Late nights in the studio.”
Seonghwa hummed at the expected answer from Hongjoong.
“That’s a little boring.”
Hongjoong laughed under his breath. “What do you mean?”
“Well, anything interesting happening?”
The pretty man poked Hongjoong further, prying into things only he could know about.
Before Hongjoong responded, he thought for a while. Maybe it was too early to say it, but with the way Seonghwa rested his head on his chest and their playful hands filled the quiet space between them, there couldn’t be anything more perfect than this.
“I have been working on something special.”
That somehow earned a questioning look from Seonghwa as he shifted to look directly at Hongjoong.
“A new special song?”
Their hands broke apart, and Hongjoong almost rushed to grab Seonghwa’s hand back into his, but Seonghwa was determined to interrogate.
“It’s just something I whipped up.”
Seonghwa’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. He knew that look on Hongjoong. The kind he had whenever he felt like it wasn’t the time to let anyone listen to it yet. The younger man went quiet for a while.
“The song is called When the Moon Sings.”
Before he let Seonghwa take another chance to pounce on him for more questions, he spoke again.
“It’s about you. You are the moon in the story.”
Seonghwa felt his own face grow warm almost immediately.
“Oh, Kim Hongjoong. You need to stop spoiling me.”
Hongjoong brought Seonghwa back into him. Their hands instantly found each other again.
“Do you know, sometimes when you are alone at night, and all you do is look up at the sky?”
Seonghwa nodded lightly against Hongjoong’s chest and listened.
“And you don’t even know why you’re looking. You just do. Maybe because everything feels heavier at night. The same things that don’t bother you during the day suddenly feel like they’re sitting right on your chest.”
His gaze drifted toward the window.
“The sky is dark and every worry comes crashing in. Those moments you thought could have been done differently, and the things you still couldn’t figure out. Everything laid across the table like it was mocking you for not being enough."
Hongjoong paused for a moment. He pursed his lips. "But then you instinctively look up and find yourself watching the moon light up the night sky.”
Seonghwa’s fingers slowly tightened around his.
“And somehow it looks brighter the deeper you sink.”
Hongjoong waited, wondering if he should continue or let Seonghwa say something. But he remained quiet.
“I used to think that was strange.”
“Why?”
“Because the moon doesn’t actually come closer and shine brighter. It doesn’t do anything. It’s just... there.”
His voice had grown quieter now.
“And I think that’s what I finally understood.”
Seonghwa pulled their hands toward him and kissed the back of Hongjoong’s hand.
“When I was having those terrible nights, when everything felt...” Hongjoong stopped as he tried to find words too big to describe his exact feelings, and still failed. “Too much... I didn’t need someone to fix me or tell me exactly what went wrong. All I needed was someone to be there and convince me that everything would be okay.”
Their entwined hands remained against Seonghwa’s lips, brushing lightly.
“And you were there. You didn’t try to fix me. You didn’t even say anything. You would sit beside me and take up space that wasn’t suffocating. And that itself was enough.”
Hongjoong’s voice caught slightly, though he managed to hide it beneath a quiet laugh.
“I think that’s what the song is about.”
Seonghwa looked up and saw how Hongjoong’s eyes wandered around the room, trying to steady himself. Probably his fluttering heart, as he could hear it beating hard against his chest.
“About the moon?”
Hongjoong nodded.
“You’re the moon.”
The words left him more quietly than he intended. And for a moment, neither of them spoke. Hongjoong stared down at their hands because looking at Seonghwa suddenly felt too vulnerable.
“When I sank deeper, you didn’t reach down and pull me out. You just stayed there. You stayed until I could breathe again.”
Seonghwa shifted again. He was looking at Hongjoong directly. There was no teasing in it, no more lazy smiles on his face. Everything went so still that Hongjoong felt naked beneath Seonghwa’s gaze.
He looked down and whispered, “I think that’s what the moon does.” A breath before he continued. “It doesn’t save you from the night. It just stays and gives you something to look at while you’re in it.”
Seonghwa’s lips parted, but no words came, and Hongjoong finally looked at him.
“I think that’s what you did for me.”
Just one breath from Seonghwa before he closed the gap between them, their noses touching, hands still clasped together, and finally he landed a small kiss on Hongjoong’s lips. So light and feathery, Hongjoong almost shuddered.
He closed his eyes to savour it, and Seonghwa rested his forehead against his.
“You know, you don’t have to make me into a moon. I was just... loving you.”
Something inside Hongjoong just broke open. A tinge of pain and warmth eased through together, like how their fingers laced in harmony. He pulled back and saw Seonghwa smile. He knew that smile. He had seen it too many times. When he saw him across crowded rooms, through exhaustion and between quiet moments when they were too tired to say anything.
The warmth of Seonghwa’s smile had comforted him through difficult times.
And so Hongjoong leaned in and kissed him again. They kissed until the sun set and the moon rose. They kissed in the midst of interrupted conversations and stolen breaths of air so that they could kiss again.
And somehow, in this ordinary day, with the sky changing colour and the night beginning, their hands still tangled between them, Hongjoong thought that love didn’t need to be louder than this.