it is love when he traces your spine at midnight, drawing invincible circles on your back, etching his affection onto your skin. you've had a hard time falling asleep lately, he knows — he could tell from the toss and turn of your body and the soft sounds of tiktok late at night. so he makes you chamomile tea and rubs your back — the room smells like eucalyptus oil and him. he presses kisses on your shoulder so tender, as though you were porcelain. he rubs your back until you fall asleep, and the first thing he asks in the morning is "did you sleep well?"

love, to lee donghyuck, is his habit of kissing you every morning. hyuck carresses your cheeks with his palms, snickering at the way you blink your eyes to adjust to the sunlight. "baby... missed you while we were asleep..." he kisses you on the forehead, your cheeks, your nose, then your lips. he doesn't miss a single step, maybe adds a few extra kisses on your lips — as though a superstitious routine. he has to do it or else his day will feel terrible. and in a slight chance that he forgot... well, expect multiple messages of apologies and sobbing emojis.

donghyuck tells you he loves you by physically latching onto you every chance he gets. he always says he hates the clingy type — when in truth, he's often the clingy one. you're watching tv? he's hugging your arm, legs rested on your lap, chin buried into your neck. you could feel his breath against your skin every time he makes a commentary, like "that's literally us," and "you think i'm more handsome than him, right?" you're making coffee? he's hugging your back, littering kisses across your collarbone. you're taking a walk? well... the two of you are! he'll go on that walk with you, lacing your fingers together and swaying your arms.

you never listen, and hyuck's aware. he tells you to bring a jacket and you never do. when you start shivering, rocking your legs under the table, hyuck glances at you and sighs. "i told you it'll be cold, didn't i?" he babbles, "you never listen!" nevertheless, he's quick to take his jacket off and lay it on you. "bring an umbrella, it'll rain!" but of course, you don't. still, he'll rush out of practice and pick you up with his car, sighing to see you drenched. "thank god i have your location, i told you it'll rain, baby. i don't want you getting sick." you never listen, he knows. to be loved is to be known, isn't it?

it is also love when hyuck tells you his secrets. he's always been the oldest in the family, rarely ever shows that he's struggling. but sometimes, behind closed doors, when it's just the two of you, he crawls into your embrace, tucks his head into your neck and cries. "i'm tired," he whispers. his voice is barely there, like it's a sin confession and you're the priest. hyuck lets you comb your fingers through his hair and kiss away his tears. to some, it may be a small thing, but to hyuck, it means everything. after all, a secret's an intimate thing. 

it is love when he traces your spine at midnight, drawing invincible circles on your back, etching his affection onto your skin. you've had a hard time falling asleep lately, he knows — he could tell from the toss and turn of your body and the soft sounds of tiktok late at night. so he makes you chamomile tea and rubs your back — the room smells like eucalyptus oil and him. he presses kisses on your shoulder so tender, as though you were porcelain. he rubs your back until you fall asleep, and the first thing he asks in the morning is "did you sleep well?"

love, to lee donghyuck, is his habit of kissing you every morning. hyuck carresses your cheeks with his palms, snickering at the way you blink your eyes to adjust to the sunlight. "baby... missed you while we were asleep..." he kisses you on the forehead, your cheeks, your nose, then your lips. he doesn't miss a single step, maybe adds a few extra kisses on your lips — as though a superstitious routine. he has to do it or else his day will feel terrible. and in a slight chance that he forgot... well, expect multiple messages of apologies and sobbing emojis.

donghyuck tells you he loves you by physically latching onto you every chance he gets. he always says he hates the clingy type — when in truth, he's often the clingy one. you're watching tv? he's hugging your arm, legs rested on your lap, chin buried into your neck. you could feel his breath against your skin every time he makes a commentary, like "that's literally us," and "you think i'm more handsome than him, right?" you're making coffee? he's hugging your back, littering kisses across your collarbone. you're taking a walk? well... the two of you are! he'll go on that walk with you, lacing your fingers together and swaying your arms.

you never listen, and hyuck's aware. he tells you to bring a jacket and you never do. when you start shivering, rocking your legs under the table, hyuck glances at you and sighs. "i told you it'll be cold, didn't i?" he babbles, "you never listen!" nevertheless, he's quick to take his jacket off and lay it on you. "bring an umbrella, it'll rain!" but of course, you don't. still, he'll rush out of practice and pick you up with his car, sighing to see you drenched. "thank god i have your location, i told you it'll rain, baby. i don't want you getting sick." you never listen, he knows. to be loved is to be known, isn't it?

it is also love when hyuck tells you his secrets. he's always been the oldest in the family, rarely ever shows that he's struggling. but sometimes, behind closed doors, when it's just the two of you, he crawls into your embrace, tucks his head into your neck and cries. "i'm tired," he whispers. his voice is barely there, like it's a sin confession and you're the priest. hyuck lets you comb your fingers through his hair and kiss away his tears. to some, it may be a small thing, but to hyuck, it means everything. after all, a secret's an intimate thing. 

it is love when he traces your spine at midnight, drawing invincible circles on your back, etching his affection onto your skin. you've had a hard time falling asleep lately, he knows — he could tell from the toss and turn of your body and the soft sounds of tiktok late at night. so he makes you chamomile tea and rubs your back — the room smells like eucalyptus oil and him. he presses kisses on your shoulder so tender, as though you were porcelain. he rubs your back until you fall asleep, and the first thing he asks in the morning is "did you sleep well?"

love, to lee donghyuck, is his habit of kissing you every morning. hyuck carresses your cheeks with his palms, snickering at the way you blink your eyes to adjust to the sunlight. "baby... missed you while we were asleep..." he kisses you on the forehead, your cheeks, your nose, then your lips. he doesn't miss a single step, maybe adds a few extra kisses on your lips — as though a superstitious routine. he has to do it or else his day will feel terrible. and in a slight chance that he forgot... well, expect multiple messages of apologies and sobbing emojis.

donghyuck tells you he loves you by physically latching onto you every chance he gets. he always says he hates the clingy type — when in truth, he's often the clingy one. you're watching tv? he's hugging your arm, legs rested on your lap, chin buried into your neck. you could feel his breath against your skin every time he makes a commentary, like "that's literally us," and "you think i'm more handsome than him, right?" you're making coffee? he's hugging your back, littering kisses across your collarbone. you're taking a walk? well... the two of you are! he'll go on that walk with you, lacing your fingers together and swaying your arms.

you never listen, and hyuck's aware. he tells you to bring a jacket and you never do. when you start shivering, rocking your legs under the table, hyuck glances at you and sighs. "i told you it'll be cold, didn't i?" he babbles, "you never listen!" nevertheless, he's quick to take his jacket off and lay it on you. "bring an umbrella, it'll rain!" but of course, you don't. still, he'll rush out of practice and pick you up with his car, sighing to see you drenched. "thank god i have your location, i told you it'll rain, baby. i don't want you getting sick." you never listen, he knows. to be loved is to be known, isn't it?

it is also love when hyuck tells you his secrets. he's always been the oldest in the family, rarely ever shows that he's struggling. but sometimes, behind closed doors, when it's just the two of you, he crawls into your embrace, tucks his head into your neck and cries. "i'm tired," he whispers. his voice is barely there, like it's a sin confession and you're the priest. hyuck lets you comb your fingers through his hair and kiss away his tears. to some, it may be a small thing, but to hyuck, it means everything. after all, a secret's an intimate thing. 

𝗇𝖼𝗍 𝖽𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗆ㅤ ⋆ㅤ 𓏔ㅤ 𝗋𝖾𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖽ㅤ 🌺ㅤㅤ ୨୧ 𝖼𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿 𝗌𝗎𝗀𝗀𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾 ˚ ༘ 🍎ㅤㅤㅤ⟢ 𝗅𝗂𝖻𝗋𝖺𝗋𝗒ㅤ 𝅄 ࣪ ྀི ま

jisung. “say you’re joking right now.” he’s pretty much scared, looking around like a lost puppy. it is known that he might think you’re crazy sometimes, maybe you’ve used that in your favor to pull this prank, but it doesn’t last long cause he really look like he’s going to cry.

haechan. “i’m happy to die by you, honeybun.” this guy, nothing is serious to him. either he doesn’t care really, or he just see you like some tiny scary chihuahua level. he even come closer and kiss your forehead while saying it; it offends you to a point actually, more so his unmistakable nonchalance on the subject.