‘a path back to my love,’ you had said.

it was romantic, in the moment, your words soft enough for him to comply, the oh-so-agreeable boyfriend. juhoon has a sneaking suspicion that you don’t think he’s quite agreeable right now, considering he’s three, no, four hours later than he said he’d be.

the clock you had picked together, the same day the lamp was brought home, ticks condescendingly at his demise, following his steps padding towards the shared bedroom.

unsurprisingly, the light is also turned off. and the door is closed, which is a telling sign for juhoon, given you always, always sleep with the door open when waiting for him.

he takes a deep breath, in and out the nose, and checks for light under the door once again with the audacity only a man in trouble can have.

and he was definitely in trouble.

when the door knob twists, he can make out your figure, sprawled out on your side, sleeping. there’s one arm flung across your eyes, and the other resting against the sheets, and as juhoon edges closer towards you, he notices.

there are tear stains, faint, running down your face, lit up only by the moonlight trickling in from the gap in the curtains. a pang of hurt hits his chest, hard, not for himself, but for you. he’s never really seen you cry about such trivial things - but then again, this isn’t something juhoon would call trivial.

your tears, as little as they may be, are a sign that he has failed at his duty, his position next to you, and the thought of failing you in any circumstance is enough for the hurt to travel straight to his eyes.

but the tears aren’t for him to cry tonight, and juhoon needs you to know that he knows that.

a finger brushes over your cheek as he lowers himself to a kneel, thumb caressing the soft pink of your skin. your lashes flutter against the underside of your eye with every breath you take, steady and even.

had juhoon come home an hour ago, he would have instead followed the jagged fluctuations of your breaths as you attempt to calm yourself down from the seemingly unstoppable tears.

he drops a kiss against the exposed skin of your neck, lingering for a second longer than needed.

“hi, angel. you awake?” he murmurs against the shell of your ear, low and resonant, the way it sounds only in your presence.

when you don’t answer, juhoon tries again, lowering the arm across your face and brushing the stray hairs away from your forehead.

“i’m home, yeah? m’sorry it’s so late, i know i should’ve told you.”

another kiss, brushing over both your eyelids before you start to stir at his touch. he watches as your pupils adjust to the dim lighting in the room, watches them recognise his own, before—

oh.

you’ve turned around. juhoon stares at the expanse of your back, covered by one of his old band tees, miffed at the way you haven’t even given him a chance to explain himself.

“please, angel. let me explain?” he places soft kisses across your shoulder blades, “let me show you i’m sorry, ok?”

after a beat of uncomfortable, dry silence, words muffled by the blanket escape your mouth.

“what’s there to explain, ju? you were late and you didn’t tell me. that’s that.” it’s clear to juhoon your articulation is weakened by the last of the tears you shed earlier.

the thought of you crying burns behind his eyelids, lighting a fire that travels straight to the depths of his bones. it brings a tear of his own, finally, after suppressing them for the sake of you.

he was never good at holding his feelings in, anyways.

you’re still turned away from his kneeling figure, unknown to his efforts at fighting mind against heart. juhoon takes the space you seem to have shoved between the two of you, sitting back against his heels as another tear slips down the heat of his cheek.

the quiet seems even more unbearable than before, dragging on as he attempts to put on a front of calm. to no avail, because his own nose betrays him, letting out an almost untraceable sniffle if not for the silence in the room.

juhoon freezes, watching your legs as you shift to face him.

“ju? baby, are you crying?” you’re eye level with him now, hands tucked under the side of your face to see him properly.

under the dim light, you can see the first few tears etch their path into his skin, and the ensuing ones follow after. he’s avoiding your stare, partly because he’s embarrassed and mostly because this is supposed to be him comforting you, not the other way around (also embarrassing).

“m’so sorry, angel. it’s not my place to cry, and i know, but i just can’t help it, i know i was late, but i saw you sleeping and there were tears, and i just—”

he’s shuffled closer, knees touching the wood of the bed frame, hands brushing against your lips, your nose, your brows, anything in his reach that happens to be you.

“hey, it’s ok baby, why’re you crying, hm?” you coo, sitting up, pulling him onto the bed, where he immediately wraps his body around yours.

the pair of you sit at the edge of the mattress as juhoon attempts to prove his reasoning.

“i just, the lamp wasn’t on when i walked in, and the bedroom door was closed, then i saw you and you had tears on your face still,” you brush the stray hairs off his forehead, nodding along. “and i just couldn’t bear to see you in pain, it hurt me too much.”

“so you know you’re wrong, hm? why didn’t you text me?” your tone, usually warm, carries undertones of disappointment, which is arguably worse than anger in juhoon’s mind.

he lowers your hand on his face before reaching to cup your jaw with his own, placing a tender kiss before muttering,

“i forgot.”

“you forgot?”

“yeah, and i know i’m wrong, i swear. even woke you up to let you know i’m wrong. you should hit me. i’ll sleep on the couch if you want. i’ll sleep outside if it makes you happy.”

his brown eyes, usually half-lidded and relaxed, are wide now, glistening with leftover feeling. his hand, the one not caressing the skin of your face, is circling against your waist, and you can tell he’s dead serious by the way he’s watching your every expression.

“juhoon.”

“yes.”

“you’re not sleeping outside.”

“yes ma’am.”

at that, you smile, the corners of your lips turning outwards at his reaction. juhoon mirrors you, eyes crinkling at the (now swollen) corners.

“why’d you cry if i was the one who was sad?”

his head makes its way into your lap, adjusting as you lean against the headboard. you feel a tear sink into the fabric of your pyjamas as he gathers another explanation.

“you were sad, and that made me sad to know that i was the one to make you sad,” he says simply, body relaxing at the feeling of your fingers card through his hair.

“wow.”

“yes.”

“i still haven’t forgiven you fully. better see you beg tomorrow.”

“if that’s what it takes.” he answers solemnly.

peace hushes over the apartment, the most tranquil it’s been all night. as your fingers still in his hair, juhoon sighs, one of relief.

he’ll gladly beg in any lifetime, if that’s what keeps you happy.

‘can i lie down for a bit?’

‘can i sleep just for a while?’

a crying man: transcending the game. what can i say 🤭 juhoon fic finally!! not the angsty one but be glad you’re getting fed. anyways… school just started again for me so… sorry if this is the only thing you get for the next few weeks… ok i’m going night night now goodnight coerblr - ceecee’s contribution ⋆˚࿔♫⋆˚࿔

‘yeah?’

‘yeah.’

another beat passes, slow and languid, the pair of you standing in the middle of the living room as seonghyeon decompresses. the only light source is from the kitchen, spilling onto the floorboards.

‘you hungry?’ his head moves against your neck yes, ‘let me make you some ramen, okay?’

your arms move to detach from where they’ve found a home around his middle, though your movements are halted by a faint murmur.

‘wait, stand still.’

‘what’s wrong? you don’t want to eat?’

‘no i wanna, just one thing first.’ seonghyeon lifts his head away from where he’s been buried against your skin for the past minute, hands travelling to the sides of your face.

your own hands move to relax against his chest, feeling the slow, consistent thump underneath. it was interesting, seonghyeon thinks, how his heartbeat had never really quickened around you, always slowing down instead.

you’d explained it to him one night in bed, ear above his heart as his fingers ran up and down your spine. something about the brain releasing oxytocin and the nervous system calming. he had agreed silently, thinking it was beautiful that someone could be safe enough for another to slow down.

he was safe now, thumb brushing against the line of your jaw, other hand lowering to where your neck and shoulder meet.

‘want a kiss first.’

‘you stopped me from feeding you because you want a kiss.’ an amused smirk makes its way onto your face.

seonghyeon, dead serious, smooths out the curl of your lips, nodding slightly before lowering his forehead to meet yours.

‘been thinking ‘bout it all day, baby. keonho was getting on my nerves and i kept thinking that, if you were there, i could’ve kissed you,’ his lips land on your forehead.

‘or held you,’ kiss on your left cheek.

‘or complained about how tough the choreo was and you’d comfort me.’ another on your nose.

his eyes are half-open, have been since he walked (or rather, crashed) through the door a few minutes ago. they lower to meet yours, sincere and earnest and desperate.

‘just kiss me already, stupid.’

he listens, always does when it comes to you.

it’s soft, almost like a wave crashing onto shore as he finally feels your mouth move against his.

slow, as he revels in the relief of your touch.

reverent, cradling your face as you grip his shirt, pulling him closer towards you.

when you part from each other, gradually, as if the separation of skin might hurt (which it does for seonghyeon, deep in his heart) he chases after your lips, left hand travelling down to your lower back.

you oblige, letting him graze his right thumb against your brow bone before tilting his head towards you again. there was that faint taste of vanilla and coffee he always carried, undoubtedly from his caffeine overconsumption he never admits to.

seonghyeon decides, in that moment, tongue licking lazily at your lower lip, your mouth might be the means to his death, and also the reason he chooses rebirth.

he can feel you pull away from him, mouth red and slightly glossy from your lip balm.

‘better?’

he pretends to think, shifting you in his arms before diving onto the couch, using you as cushioning.

your laugh rings out, echoing against the walls of the apartment as he hides his smile in the crook of your neck. seonghyeon raises his head as quiet starts to settle again, smiling unhurriedly at your slightly unimpressed look.

‘can you make me ramen now?’

‘unbelievable.’ but you still shift under the weight of him, moving towards the kitchen.

as the water boils, he makes his way towards where you’re leaning against the bench top. in front of you, it’s clear that seonghyeon’s about to fall asleep standing, so you open your arms, and he falls into them without argument.

his head rests against your shoulder, and you let yours fall against his mess of hair.

‘tired?’

‘mhm.’

he stands upright, arms moving to surround your body with his own, before placing a feathery kiss against your cheek bone. his eyes are shut by now, lashed fluttering against the smooth expanse of his skin.

‘hyeon.’

‘hm.’

‘go to bed.’

‘no, wanna eat first.’ seonghyeon’s words are slurring a little, giving away the full extent of his exhaustion.

you try and manoeuvre yourself from where he has you trapped against the bench, but he’s having none of it.

‘stay still, baby.’ you listen, movements halting for a second because he sounds needy.

‘the water’s boiling now, lovie. don’t you want food?’

an unintelligible noise comes out of his mouth, though it’s replaced by one of surprise from you as he captures your lips in yet another kiss.

this one is a little more frantic, a little less careful, like he has feelings to convey that can’t be said. it’s yearning, the way seonghyeon’s gripping onto the back of your shirt like you’re his last hope.

and maybe you are, considering the fact that his days are spent with four other boys who don’t understand the full capacity of his love for you.

when you push at his chest for air, he gives the space reluctantly, physically unwilling to give you too much of it. now that he has you in his atmosphere, there’s nothing he wouldn’t do to keep you in it.

‘you’re so clingy tonight, hyeon. you okay?’ your fingers weave their way into his hair, massaging slowly as his eyes waver shut again.

‘missed you, s’all.’

‘i can tell. feels like you’re trying to eat me.’ he laughs at that, little huffs that come out slower than usual.

you manage to twist yourself out of his grasp, tending to the stove as seonghyeon wraps himself around you again. he’s not speaking and neither are you, content to let the late night fade into this one moment of peace.

when you bring the pot over to the bench, silent eyes instructing him to sit and eat, something descends in seonghyeon’s chest, slow, and steady, the same way your eyes map out his movements. it’s in that moment he realises there may never come a day where he himself may comprehend the love he carries for you, much less anyone else around him. and he thinks he’s okay with that, as long as you allow him to spend the rest of your shared lifetime trying to show it to you.

your elbows lean against the counter, observing the sharp slant of his nose, the pink of his cheeks, feeling a warmth only seonghyeon’s presence delivers.

‘eat fast, baby. i wanna sleep.’

your words, though carrying a teasing lilt, are soft, affectionate, entirely only for him in a way that seems too intimate even between the two of you.

internally, while sneaking glances at each other, seonghyeon thinks: he’s glad you stayed still when he asked, because the mouth can convey more than just words.

and your mouth might just be the prettiest translator he’s ever encountered.

‘time stands still,

while we stand here’