please

Don’t imagine moving in with your bias. Don’t imagine him carrying box after box of your stuff into your new apartment, grunting “Jagi, what the hell did you pack into these things? I haven’t sweat this much since the air conditioning in the training room broke!” Don’t imagine him lying on his back in the middle of the empty living room, watching you as you get to work putting up pictures and whining at him to get up, not noticing the blissfully happy expression on his face as you flutter about the room. Don’t imagine finally collapsing on your bed, or rather, your mattress on the floor (“I’ll set up the bed frame tomorrow, jagiya, I promise!”) together, snuggling into his side as he hums a song you’re not familiar with, falling into a blissful sleep. Don’t imagine him kissing your head once you’re surely asleep, hoping to god you didn’t find the ring box hidden in the box full of his underwear…