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Sieun is losing it. His chemistry professor has been droning on about the structure of an atom for what has felt like hours, even though it’s probably only been around thirty minutes. Usually, Sieun is completely focused during her lectures—eyes stuck to the projector, scribbling away, head bent just slightly because that’s how he takes his notes. But right now, Sieun is anything but that calm, collected, hyperfocused version of himself that powers through three straight hours of listening to someone talk and walks out with pages of notes to study later.
No, right now, he’s struggling not to squirm in his seat because his body aches everywhere, and he’s clenching his jaw because he’s freezing and he’s sure his teeth will start chattering if he stops. He just desperately wants to go home, throw several layers of blankets over himself, sleep for an eternity, then wake up and drink some piping hot tea. In bed, preferably—the thought of getting out of a warm bed physically hurts right now.
Just as Sieun’s head is about to drop, his willpower finally lost, the sound of his professor’s voice comes to a halt.
“That’s all for today. This topic is a little challenging, so if you’re struggling, please come to my office hours for help. Alright, have a good weekend everyone!”
Sieun considers going to a professor’s office hours for the first time in his life because he actually absorbed maybe 10% of what she said today, but he decides he’ll think about that later. For now, freedom.
He stuffs his laptop and pencil bag into his backpack and speed walks to the door, his body on the verge of giving out.
When he opens it, cold air hits his face and travels down his shirt, making him shiver. He was already cold, but suddenly the goosebumps get worse, stark against his skin. The world also feels unbearably bright as it hits his eyes, and it’s not even sunny outside. Can this day get any more awful? He wonders, miserable.
Squinting and undoubtedly slouching more than he usually does, he starts making his way to the vending machine he always walks to after this class ends, where his boyfriend always waits for him, back against a pillar, sometimes holding a drink he bought for Sieun to have. Most of the time, it's a carton of strawberry milk, because he knows that's Sieun's favorite.
Once the green and blue recycling awareness sign that's posted a couple feet from the vending machine comes into view, Sieun knows he's almost there. And sure enough, a few agonizing steps later, Suho is before him, pocketing his phone and holding his arms out for a hug.
Sieun just lets himself drop, practically falling onto Suho because he knows he can take the weight, and as he wraps his arms around sturdy, broad shoulders, everything else fades away.
He sighs a bit shakily and closes his eyes, feeling Suho's thin cotton shirt brush against his cheek. "Hey baby, what’s up?”
Sieun doesn’t answer, instead, he just lets out a small, miserable noise that communicates all that it needs to, really.
Suho tucks his chin into the crook of Sieun’s shoulder, resting it there. “Bad day?”
“Yeah.” Sieun shifts momentarily, removing his arms from their place around Suho’s shoulders and bringing them to his waist to hug him that way instead, because the position's more comfortable. And while he’s doing that, he sniffles, making what has caused this bad day of his pretty obvious.
“Are you sick?” Suho pulls away just slightly to examine his face.
“Mm.” Sieun bends down slightly, burying his face into Suho’s chest instead of letting it peek out over his shoulder. “M’sick and cold. I wanna go home.”
“Yeah?” Suho tips his face upwards so they’re making direct eye contact, cradling his jaw. The warmth emanating from his hand feels nice.
“Sieun-ah, you should’ve told me earlier. You know I have no classes today, I could’ve picked you up.”
Sieun blinks up at him. “Sorry, Suho-yah. I didn’t think it’d get this bad. I was fine this morning.”
“Hey, don’t apologize, I’ve got you now. Let’s just go home now and get you back to normal." Suho presses a tender kiss to his forehead. “Will the motorcycle be fine, or do you think it'll be too much? I can ask Gotak to drive you instead. His Econ class ended just now too.”
Sieun shakes his head. “I wanna be with you.”
“Okay, whatever makes you comfortable.” Suho pulls away and looks him in the eyes for a moment, his own eyes searching, gaze rapidly shifting from one corner of his face to another. He does this sometimes—just stares worriedly, assessing Sieun, trying to figure out if he’s really okay like he says he is.
Then the moment breaks, and he takes Sieun’s backpack, swinging it over his shoulder deftly. “Let’s go?” Sieun nods, and then they're off, walking into the distance hand in hand.
About a minute into their walk though, Suho suddenly stops in front of a bench, putting his hands on his hips like he's thinking about something. Sieun gives him a questioning look.
"Hold on." Suho says, leading him onto the bench by the shoulders and plopping him down gently. Out of his own backpack, which he's been carrying in addition to Sieun's, he pulls out a pale blue hoodie.
Sieun is silent as Suho tugs it over his head, letting himself be handled like a pliant rag doll. After the hoodie is over his head, and the world is no longer enveloped in darkness, the light of day returning to Sieun’s eyes, Suho pulls the hood up and pats his head affectionately. Sieun’s looking down, and the hood is large, so it ends up covering a lot, like his tousled hair, and the soft slope of his eyebrows, and the small scar on the top of his head he got after suffering a fall down the stairs as a child. Only his lashes remain visible, dark brown and feather light against his skin.
“There. To warm you up.”
The hood falls back to reveal Sieun’s whole face as he looks up to peer at Suho, eyes a little bleary from sickness, but warm nonetheless—endlessly warm. He’ll admit it. He loves the hoodie. It’s comfortable, and cozy, and smells like home. Like Suho.
“You look so cute all bundled up like that.” Suho chuckles.
Sieun is hit with the sudden urge to be close again and makes grabby hands in his boyfriend's direction. Suho immediately catches on, lifting him up from the bench and back into his arms. Sieun reaches up and runs his fingers through his Suho's hair, just because he feels the need to touch. Even though they're stuck to the hip all the time, he still can't get enough of Suho. He's chronically touch-starved.
“Did you just shower? You’re hair’s all wet,” he observes.
“Yeah. Right before picking you up. But I’m still up for taking one together when we get home, you know.” He winks.
Sieun hits him playfully, smiling. “Shut up. You wish.”
Suho laughs loudly, delighted. He knows he’s cheered Sieun up, and he loves seeing him smile too. “Come on.” He points his thumb to somewhere in the distance. “Let’s head to the bike.”
They start walking again, and suddenly, Sieun dissolves into a coughing fit.
Suho’s brows crinkle with worry. “Water?” He nods, and Suho pulls out a half finished water bottle he’d been drinking from at the gym earlier. He unscrews the bottle cap swiftly and hands it to Sieun, who accepts it with quivering hands.
Sieun gulps down a few sips and unconsciously squeezes the bottle a bit when he's finished, the plastic crinkling as it compresses. Suho pats his back and takes the bottle off his hands.
“Baby, you okay?”
Sieun nods once, then twice. “I'm fine.”
“Clearly not. I’m making you some soup, then honey tea, and then it's bed rest until you recover.”
Suho grabs his hand, and Sieun revels in the feeling of it—in the warm, solid weight of it, in the way one touch can make him feel utterly safe and loved.
“Let me know if you feel dizzy, okay?”
“Suho-yah, I’m fine. Promise.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“It’s a common cold, I’ll come out alive.”
“Still don’t believe you.”
...
Just short of fifteen minutes later, because Suho drove fast, Sieun finds himself laying comfortably on the couch, a weighted blanket on his lap, curled up like a shrimp with his arms wrapped around his knees.
"What do you want to eat? Juk? Samgyetang? Miyeok-guk? We have the ingredients for all of them.”
Sieun opens up Netflix on the TV and clicks through options under the rom-com movie section, because that's what he's feeling like today. "Hmm, but I'm not hungry right now."
"Really?" Sieun turns around to find Suho leaning on the kitchen counter, both elbows resting on the smooth surface, head propped up on his palm, with his eyes narrowed like he's trying to figure Sieun out—to gauge whether he's telling the truth or not.
"Really."
"Okay. Really." Suho puts the pots and pans away and flops onto the couch beside him, then checks his forehead to see if it’s still warm. “Your fever came down,” he observes, brows furrowed.
"You gave me medicine, soft pajamas, and comfy socks. You’ve done everything, Suho-yah. So now… just watch a movie with me."
Suho reluctantly agrees, telling Sieun to let him know if he needs anything else, to which he responds with a 'Yah, relax,' throwing some of his blanket over the other’s legs, and then they continue perusing movie options together. When Sieun finally lands on something he thinks they’ll both like, he hovers over the title on Netflix.
"Love Untangled? What's that about?" Suho raises a brow in curiosity.
"I don't know, but I guess we'll find out."
With that, Sieun pushes Suho down and settles on top of him—head to chest, legs to legs, feet entwined in some haphazard mess at the other end of the sofa. Suho doesn’t look the slightest bit startled by this sudden movement, and Sieun figures it’s because they lay together like this a lot. Sieun would be too embarrassed to admit it out aloud, but he likes this better than just sitting, no matter how that looks—whether Suho is behind him, or beside him, or anything else. This is just better. Sieun, on top, caging him in, but also feeling completely surrounded by Suho all at the same time.
Suho laughs into his neck. "You're really like a cat sometimes, you know that?"
Sieun sighs contentedly, pressing play on the movie. "Yeah, I get that a lot."
"From who, I wonder."
Sieun snorts and wacks him playfully, and then the movie's playing, and they go silent, simply enjoying each other's presence. He can feel Suho's heartbeat under his ear. It’s a sure thing, beating a steady, even rhythm. Its sound brings him peace, and for the first time that day, he feels fully at ease.
The voices from the TV get louder and louder as he slowly drifts, and he's so close to Suho he doesn't know where he ends and the other begins. In this moment, it feels like they exist not as two different people—as just Suho or just Sieun—but as a whole. As one. Like they’re inseparable, chemically melded together like copper and tin are when they mix to make bronze. Like maybe Sieun is now stuck somewhere within Suho, like glue. Between his ribs, inside his chest, in the crevices of his heart, and can’t get out—doesn’t want to, anyway. And he leans into the comfort of that, letting it consume him so that the sleep he desperately needs can finally take him.
…
He wakes up disoriented, only able to register that Suho's yawning below him. It takes a second for him to realize where he is and what's going on, and then it all kicks in. His sore, painful throat. His muffled hearing. His stuffy, congested nose.
“Oh, Sieun-ah. Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you up. M’just sleepy. I get sleepy watching you sleep.”
“Water,” Sieun croaks, because there’s nothing he wants more at the moment.
Suho snaps out of his sleepy haze immediately. “Water? Okay, okay.”
He knocks his elbow on the side table as he reaches for the glass he’d kept there earlier, wincing softly.
Sieun rubs that spot to ease the pain, then takes the glass, glugging it down in one go.
“I think I could go for some honey tea now. Or just anything hot. My throat—” He cuts himself off, dissolving into another one of those uncontrollable coughing fits that leave his chest hurting afterwards and his throat still tingling with the residual urge to cough.
Suho frowns, putting a hand on his back to steady him. “Let me make that honey tea right away. That cough doesn’t sound good at all.” He springs up from the couch, hair a bit of a mess, and starts gathering ingredients. Honey and a tea bag from the pantry. A small pot to boil hot water. A small silver spoon so he can give everything a mix.
“Did you watch the movie? Sorry I fell asleep.” He scratches his head absentmindedly, still feeling a bit out of it.
“You’re sick, baby. You’re extra fatigued than normal. Plus, I know I’m comfortable to sleep on, so no saying sorry.” He grabs a mug from the cabinet and places a tea bag in it, letting it sit there while the water boils. “And I loved the movie. Let’s watch it together again next weekend, yeah?”
“What was it about?” Sieun lies down again, nose hitting the sofa’s backrest, and the leather squeaks faintly.
“You’ll see.” He grins. “I can’t tell you or it’ll ruin the fun.”
Sieun closes his eyes. “No. It’s not fun if you know the plot and I don’t.”
Suho’s tongue pokes at his cheek as he considers the words. “Hmm, you got me there.” Slowly, he drags it back to the front of his mouth. “But I’m still not telling you. I want you to be completely not in the know like I was.”
Sieun grumbles. “Fine.”
After Sieun finishes his tea, they move from the couch to the bathroom, and find themselves in front of a running shower.
“Is it warm yet? I’m freezing.” Sieun has his arms crossed, and he’s rubbing them rapidly with his hands, trying to generate heat.
Suho has his hand under the stream of water, testing the temperature. On his face is a look of deep concentration, as if this is some serious affair.
“There. Now it should be perfect. Get in, get in.” He leads Sieun under the spray by his back and follows quickly, shutting the glass shower door as he goes. Once they’re both settled and soaked well enough, Suho reaches for the shampoo.
“Let me get your hair. Tilt towards me,” Suho says, voice tinged with a sort of softness that peeks out in moments like this, where they’re tucked away in the intimate space beyond their shower curtain, utterly vulnerable, just two people holding each other because it’s been a long day, and home is in each other's arms.
Sieun bends his head and Suho cards through the soft strands, pressing and rubbing shampoo into his scalp with slow, thorough strokes. Sieun moans at the sensation, forehead tipping forward and hitting Suho’s slick chest. He feels like he’s floating, his entire body humming with pleasure. Right now, he doesn’t know anything else but Suho. Suho's warmth, Suho’s hands against his scalp, Suho’s scent—pine and musk, and a little him too, because Sieun’s always all over him.
“Feels nice?” Suho asks, knowing very well it does, voice a touch husky. If this were any other day, things might’ve escalated. Washing each other, then kissing, then more. But today isn’t one of those days, and Suho knows it. Today, Sieun only wants gentleness and care—wants forehead kisses, quiet attention, and a stroke on the cheek that says ‘I’m here. You’re loved.’
“Mmm. More.”
“More? What do you want? You can have anything. Anything baby.”
Sieun is silent for a moment, head angled downward, feeling shy. The water gushes behind him, loud as it grazes his back.
“Oh—what’s this? Sieunnie, are you being shy?” Suho pokes his cheek. “Aish, you’re gonna give me a heart attack. I’ll die from cuteness aggression.”
Normally, Sieun would’ve answered with some kind of playful retort. A ‘You’re so dramatic’ or ‘You’re so corny,” but today, instead, he lifts his head slowly, a bashful smile on his face.
“When we get out, can you… massage me? With lotion maybe? The painkillers helped, but everything still kinda hurts a bit.”
Suho’s brows furrow momentarily as he takes in his boyfriend’s words, then a lopsided smile splits on his face.
“That’s what you were taking so long to ask me? Of course I’ll give you a massage, Sieun-ah. I’d love to, actually. You know I love having you close.” He leans in, and his voice dips a little, taking on a deeper pitch. “You know, we could do it on the bed and you could sit between my legs, leaning back onto me. How's that sound?”
Sieun actually blushes at the idea. He feels pink dust his cheeks. For no reason in particular, he wonders what shade. Baby pink probably, based on what Suho has told him before.
Sieun looks up at him, silver dots shining in his eyes as they reflect the white overhead lighting. Suho gazes back at him like he just hung the moon and the stars, and Sieun blossoms under that gaze, lips curving up, then faltering slightly as he smiles that signature, precious smile of his that he knows makes Suho’s chest ache. “Yeah. I’d like that…”
Suho cups his face, then kisses the back of his ear. “Okay… sounds like a plan.”
…
Freshly showered, hair toweled, and back into the pair of pajamas he had on earlier, Sieun finds himself on the bed, back against the headrest, waiting for Suho to pick some lotion for the massage. Suho had insisted on him picking, but Sieun had answered with this defiant stare that made Suho fold immediately, opting to make the decision himself. Today is one of those rare days where he wants to have Suho take the reins through and through, because his energy is completely drained, and maybe, just maybe, he likes being pampered like this.
Suho emerges from the bathroom with a light green bottle in his hand—one that looks very familiar to Sieun. Notably, his hand is covering the label on the front, where the scent of the lotion is probably listed.
“This is the one I use every day that you like.” Suho grins, looking very pleased with himself, and sets the bottle down on the bedside table.
“Want to use it?” He places a hand on Sieun’s knee, a playful glint in his eye.
“Sounds good to me, Suho-yah.” Sieun replies, feigning indifference, though the right side of his mouth twitches slightly, betraying his mild annoyance.
Suho and Sieun share practically everything. Body wash, shampoo, skin care products—Sieun doesn’t care much for skin care, to be honest, however his boyfriend is a menace, and won’t go a morning without slathering cleanser and moisturizer onto a grumpy-faced, sleepy Sieun—but this lotion is something Suho recently bought which he hasn't even brought out in front of Sieun until now. He’s had it for a few weeks, and has been relentless with his teasing, refusing to tell Sieun where he got it or even what the scent is despite knowing he likes it so much.
Suho laughs and runs the hand on Sieun’s knee up to his thigh, squeezing gently when he reaches it.
“Let’s get started then, shall we, Sieun-ssi?” Suho smiles charmingly and lifts Sieun, moving him over to make space for himself on the bed. Then, he hoists himself up onto it in one swift movement, completely ignoring the wooden ledge he's meant to climb. When he's done adjusting the pillow behind his back until it's positioned to his liking, leaning back on it and making a satisfied noise, that's when he finally turns and finds Sieun staring at him, an expectant look in his eyes. Because he doesn’t want to wait any longer. He wants something, and he wants it now.
He knows Suho will give it to him.
Suho pats his lap, and Sieun crawls his way into it, back settling against Suho’s chest. He lets out a long sigh, muscles finally untensing. Finally relaxing. Suho noses at his neck, enjoying the proximity.
“You really wanted this, huh?” Suho slips a hand under Sieun’s pajama shirt, laying a palm on his bare stomach. “Cutie.”
Sieun shivers, biting back a whimper. Suho isn’t even trying to have this effect on him, but unfortunately, Sieun is a little stupid in love and embarrassingly easy for him. A thought floats in from the logical part of his mind that he should probably push Suho’s hand away before they both lose control, but he can’t help it. He loves the feeling of it resting there, warm, and steady, and slightly calloused.
Suho grabs the lotion from the table, and the sound breaks Sieun out of his thoughts. “Where do you want me to start, Sieun-ssi? Customer’s choice.”
Sieun guides his hand to his arm, then swipes it up past his fingers, his wrist, his forearm, only stopping at the underside of his upper arm.
“Here, please,” he answers, voice almost a whisper.
Suho immediately takes action, squeezing out some lotion onto his palm.
Before putting it on Sieun, he rubs it between his hands, warming it up. Sieun hears the lotion squelch as it moves from palm to palm, and he closes his eyes, readying himself for Suho’s touch.
Slowly, Suho begins applying it to his skin, tugging and retreating, tugging and retreating, using just the right amount of pressure for the massage. The lotion is sticky, yet soothing against his skin. Every sliver of it that Suho’s hands aren’t touching feels cold.
Sieun starts to fall forward, just a bit, moving in the direction of Suho’s motions—swaying, swaying, swaying. His hair falls over his face. It’s long now, since it’s been a while so he got a haircut, so it cascades. He holds back the soft noises that are growing at the back of his throat, itching to spill over.
He can’t help but think that this moment, where they’re both cozied up in their queen-sized bed, the lights low, the world quiet, is what heaven must feel like.
“Suho-yah,” Sieun calls, just because.
“Yes baby?” Suho says, sounding kind of lost. Kind of gone. Just as gone as Sieun.
“I love you.” He says it without hesitancy. He says it clearly. But he isn't loud. Because Sieun isn’t loud. He’s quiet, and he’s calm, and he’s gentle, and his love is so—a gentle squeeze when they're holding hands here, and a light tap on the shoulder there, when he’s leaving a room without Suho, and he knows he’ll be missed.
“I love you too, darling.” Suho kisses the nape of his neck. “Is this helping?”
“Yeah. A lot.”
Suho chuckles. “I’m glad.”
Suho’s hands continue moving downward, chin resting on Sieun’s shoulder, puffs of breath trailing down Sieun’s neck. When he reaches his thighs, he pauses.
“Think you can guess the scent one last time?” His voice is a pleasant thing, sweet as honey as it filters through Sieun’s right ear. He points to the bottle that's now resting on the bed beside them with Suho having moved it there for easier access, but Sieun already knows what he's asking about. The lotion. The damn lotion.
This is where Sieun pouts. “No.”
Suho pouts back, eyebrows raised cutely, and leans forward to meet Sieun’s eyes. “Oh baby, please. Guess one last time? For me?”
Sieun scoffs. “Have I been guessing for someone else all this time? I’ve just been guessing for your satisfaction.”
Suho starts tracing small circles on Sieun’s thighs with his thumbs and tapping from time to time, with no particular pattern to it.
Sieun sighs. “Fine. If I guess one last time, will you finally tell me?”
Suho nods eagerly like some kind of desperate puppy.
“Okay. Lemon.”
Sieun can’t see it since he’s in front of him, but he knows Suho’s eyes just lit up. He can feel the energy.
“Oh my god! That’s super close, actually! Sieun-ah, you amaze me.” He pauses, and then asks, “Three tries? Please?” Sieun can hear the whine in his voice.
“You enjoy torturing me, don't you? Fine. Is it tangerine?”
Suho bends his neck to look at Sieun. Really look at him. His eyes are wide.
“What? Did I get it right?” Sieun blinks up at him, the warm, golden light from their bedside table making his skin glow.
“Yah, bookworm, you finally got it!” Suho exclaims, arms snaking around Sieun’s waist a little tighter. He’s basically hugging him from behind at this point. “Well, you got it half-right. It’s tangerine and vanilla.”
Sieun’s mouth quirks up into a soft, fond smile. “You’re really excited about this, aren’t you?”
“You know it.” Suho kisses him on the cheek. “But I am sorry for teasing you, baby. I’ve just never seen you like something of mine so much. It was just the perfect opportunity to see you get all petty and grouchy and cute when I wouldn’t tell you about the scent.”
Sieun rolls his eyes, but he’s still smiling. “Okay. Whatever you say.”
Suho kisses him again—on the lips this time, and truly, Sieun thinks to himself, the man has zero survival skills.
“You’re gonna get sick, you know?”
“That’s perfectly alright with me. It would be an honor to get sick because of you, your majesty.”
Sieun huffs. “You’re crazy.”
“You love me.”
“Somehow, yeah.” Sieun says, turning around and flicking his nose.
Suho grins, then grabs more lotion so he can start on Sieun’s legs. “I’ll buy you as many bottles of that lotion as you want, you know.”
Sieun’s breath hitches mid exhale as Suho starts to massage behind his knees. He’s sensitive there, and Suho knows it. “No.”
“No?” Suho echoes, amused.
“I'm sick of it now. I've smelled it enough for ten lifetimes.”
“Oh,” Suho answers, not quite believing him. “Then, are you not enjoying this massage?”
“Huh? No. I’m… fine smelling it for now.”
“Sure, sure.” Suho’s silent for a moment, and then, his fingers began crawling down Sieun’s chest, all the way to his stomach. Sieun nearly jumps at each point of contact. What is he?—
Immediately, Sieun squirms out of his hold, grabbing Suho’s hand, escaping his tickling attack just as it begins.
Sieun glares at him, noting the pure mischief in Suho’s eyes. “Hey! I’m still sick.”
It’s then that Suho seems to remember himself, pulling Sieun back into his lap. “Okay, good point, Sieun-ssi. You’re right, you’re right. This is absolutely terrible customer service. Come on, I’ll do your legs now.” He says this all in a relatively serious voice, but there’s an edge to it, with Suho still wanting to tease him just a tiny bit.
Sieun just lays back and lets himself succumb to sensation again—hands gliding across his smooth skin, the sound of the heater kicking on, Suho beginning to hum softly as he works—his mind going blank. He no longer has anything he wants to say or do. To him, the day has drawn to a close. He’s absolutely done.
Suho’s here to tuck me in, he thinks to himself, as he falls asleep in his boyfriend's arms for the second time that day.
…
Suddenly, Suho realizes that the weight in his arms has grown heavier. Has grown limp. A neck has fallen forward, oriented downwards.
With careful hands, Suho tilts Sieun’s head back up and examines his face. And that’s when he realizes.
Ah.
Sieun’s eyes are closed.
It’s at that moment that he's overcome with such a strong, overwhelming surge of love for the man in front of him, that he thinks he could cry.
It’s been years since they got together, but it’s at spontaneous moments like this, that come when he’s ever so unprepared and dawn upon him just like that—as quickly as it takes to flip a light switch—where he’s reminded how lucky he is to have Sieun. How lucky he is to get to keep him forever. Hold him forever. Love him forever.
Fuck. He wants to cherish Sieun for the rest of his life, to give him everything.
Suho reaches his hand out into the space between them, letting it move forward, forward, forward. In this moment, his brain has been reduced to mush. All it wants is Sieun’s hand in his, small, and soft, and perfect. And that want is powerful, pulling him in like gravity. Sieun is the earth and Suho is his moon, falling into his orbit constantly. Inevitably.
He intertwines their fingers, sliding all the way down until the pads of his fingers brush against Sieun’s knuckles and there isn't a sliver of space left between their hands.
Sieun’s pinkie twitches. Even fast asleep, he’s responding to Suho’s touch.
Suho raises their linked hands to his lips and kisses the spot where it twitched. Right above the first line on his pinkie. Not the middle, but not the tip either. Somewhere in between. After that, he sits. He sits and lets his mind go blank. He only feels—feels Sieun breathe in front of him, feels delightful warmth, feels love, and more love, and more love.
And when his eyes start to droop and his breathing starts to grow slow and heavy, he uses his last bit of energy to whisper something sweet into Sieun’s ear.
“Can I move out from under you, Sieun-ah? Will you let me?”
Sieun doesn’t respond, of course, as knocked out as he is.
“I think you will.”
So Suho moves. He slips out from under Sieun like ocean water rolling away from the sand. Smooth and slow.
He shifts to the other side of the bed and pulls Sieun close.
“Goodnight, Sieun-ah.” He kisses the top of his head. “Tomorrow, I’ll probably be sick, and we can watch movies in bed together all day. That sound good to you?”
Sieun snuggles closer, and Suho’s heart grows impossibly fuller.