the moon above the sea

[ksoo]

Another day. Another day stretched longer than the shadows that hung about Kyungsoo’s shoulders, sparking brief bouts of paranoia. His nerves stretched thin, they hummed and sang with every sway of his body. Though his feet shuffled beneath him, he lingered in the world as a spectre, spread between the lab and Aqurixum 322. Since the party in Gangnam, he frequented his apartment more often than Jongin’s. Recently, he fell asleep in Aqurixum 322 before he could even consider the dancer; the late hours did nothing to help their relationship. Or non-relationship. Kyungsoo, honestly, couldn’t read enough into Jongin to know where they stood anymore.

Once, he attempted to leave his key behind on Jongin’s kitchen counter. Bogged down by another sleepless night, he forgot the dancer’s natural persistence and found the key in his hand two hours later in chemistry class. A lie about forgetting it seemed to soothe the lines gathering at Jongin’s temples. Or maybe it didn’t. Every day blurred together, tangled in a mess of waking nightmares of Jung Shinwoo with too few respites. ‘Good morning’s blended into ‘good night’s and drowned in ‘are you okay’s.

I’m fine, he promised to every face, a practiced smile perched on his face.

He wasn’t, though. He couldn’t remember the last time he slept through the night, the last time he took a night to relax, the last time he sat next to Jongin without worrying the edges of a blanket. The thought of the dancer, by itself, hollowed Kyungsoo’s already-empty chest. If he could take a night, just one---

Protect Jongin, he reminded himself as his feet guided him down the concrete awash with neon. Jongin could live a separate life without him, like he did now. Dance practice until some hour that evaded Kyungsoo’s memory. Late. Sometime late. He coughed again, rattling through his bones.

In one moment, Kyungsoo stood at a crosswalk and the next he lingered at the door to Aqurixum 322. In the next heartbeat, he realized he didn’t want to be there. He wanted to curl up on Jongin’s bed, warm and safe and calm next to the dancer. Blinking numbly at the door did nothing to help his confusion, nor the budding chills gathering about his neck.

Caprius 119. Go to Caprius 119.

In another blink, he stood beside Jongin’s wardrobe and Kyungsoo reached in to pull out his favorite of Jongin’s many sweatshirts. He carried himself downstairs to the couch and tugged the black sweatshirt over his head before he simply curled up.

One minute, he told himself as he picked a boring movie and tucked a blanket around his shoulders. One hour. Jongin didn’t need to know he was here. One movie… one night…

[jongin]

It was late when Jongin finally trudged out of the studio, his muscles stretched and sated from the three solid hours of practice he’d just put into his routine for the upcoming dance concert. His body was the one thing he seemed to be able to control in his life at the moment, so he worked it as hard as he could; bruises peppered across his calves and knees from hitting the dance floor too hard, his knee aching to remind him of his human weaknesses.

When he felt the twinge in his old knee injury, he sometimes sat down and thought to himself that he was much weaker in other parts of his body--specifically, his heart. Since that night in Gangnam and then in Kyungsoo’s apartment, the extent of his feelings for Kyungsoo had become increasingly obvious. He would rub his knee and frown down at it, telling it that it had no right to complain when his heart was in a far worse state. After all, he might have once considered his once-torn ACL his biggest weakness...but now he knew better.

His biggest weakness was Kyungsoo, whose absence from his apartment and daily routine hadn’t gone unnoticed. Jongin found himself increasingly worried-Kyungsoo wandered around like he was in a daze on most days, his face pleasant and blank and not at all himself. There were less and less of his clothes to fold after doing the laundry, more and more nights that Jongin avoided going home because he knew his bed would be empty and he tried with all of his strength to turn a blind eye to the way it made his eyes prick and his chest ache.

“Talk to me,” He’d begged at one point, but Kyungsoo had given him such a look of utter indifference that Jongin stumbled back like he’d been shot.

“There’s nothing to talk about, Jongin.” He’d mumbled, turning back to his homework with a hand fisted in his own hair.

He stopped asking after that, because no matter how much Kyungsoo insisted that he was fine, Jongin could read the darkening circles beneath his eyes better than he could read his own handwriting. He peppered Kyungsoo with little touches instead, things to ground him in reality and remind him that Jongin was still there, still as loyal as he had always been despite his mistakes.

Jongin was a lot of things, but he wasn’t a traitor, or a cheater.

In fact, he’d stopped sleeping with Minju, which she was more than understanding about.

“It’s okay, Jongin,” she told him, smoothing the hair from his tear-soaked cheeks. “I understand, you know I could never be mad at you. You just make sure he treats you right, okay?”

He wanted to choke when he thought about it now. He’d never been so wrapped up in someone that he let them control his feelings, but with Kyungsoo it was unavoidable. He wanted to be angry-sometimes he really, truly wanted to snap and tell Kyungsoo to fuck right off and take your high horse with you, but the thought of letting go practically drove him into a panic attack.

Finding himself outside his own apartment door, he let his head thud heavily against the door, fighting hard not to let his hopes get too high. Kyungsoo hadn’t been over in more than a week. What made tonight any different?

Stuffing the key in the lock, he turned the doorknob and stepped inside, kicking off his shoes and tossing his duffle next to the coat rack. He made it two steps into his apartment before he heard the television playing and froze, his eyes wide and his heart thumping harder. He knew he hadn’t left the television on, and the door was locked when he left, which meant...

Slowly, Jongin moved forward, tiptoeing because the thought of being disappointed made him so afraid.

Kyungsoo---curled up on the couch wearing a sweater that Jongin had just washed last week, looking perfectly serene with his face pressed into the pillow and his hair slightly askew.

It fucking melted his resentment and anger, and Jongin found himself filled from head to toe with a drive to protect, to treasure, to cherish.

Creeping as quietly as he could to the front of the couch, he sat down cross-legged in front of Kyungsoo and gently carded his fingers through his hair, fighting back all the ugly tears he wanted to cry. It was the first time in so long he’d seen such a complacent look on Kyungsoo’s face; he looked like he was comfortable, like he was actually resting. Or was that a lie, too, just like the “I’m okay” he constantly fed Jongin as a substitute for real conversation?

He softly hummed a lullaby his sister used to sing to him when he couldn’t sleep as a child when Kyungsoo stirred and shifted on the couch, whining in his sleep, his fingertips lightly pressing against the familiar contours of Kyungsoo’s face. He sat like that for a while, his lip worried between teeth as he watched the steady rise and fall of Kyungsoo’s chest.

When the song ended and Kyungsoo was lying still, breath even but not as deep, Jongin cupped his cheek and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead.

“Are you awake?” he asked quietly.

[Ksoo]

The creak of the door should have woken Kyungsoo. The touches to his face should have pushed him into consciousness. Yet, only as the humming ended did Kyungsoo rise to the surface of his sleep and bob back into the world of the living. Underneath the buzz of characters in the movie, he heard Jongin’s voice, a salve to his senses. Blinking awake, he regarded the dancer with a drowsy affection. Jongin. Kim Jongin. 1994. Dancer. Home. Love.

“Mmm” he hummed in reply, heavy and rough before he coughed into the pillow tucked under his head.

A moment later, though, the paranoia reared its ugly head and pulled at the collar curled about his neck. Jongin was here. He wasn’t supposed to know he was here, wasn’t supposed to… there was a laundry list Kyungsoo struggled to remember.

“Protect Jongin,” he mumbled aloud as he shifted his weight on the couch, feeling as if he might melt at any moment. “Protect Jongin. Get up, Kyungsoo.”

His voice roughened further with every word that emerged from his lips, gravel wearing away at asphalt.

“Protect Jongin,” his brain continued processing out loud.

[jongin]

It took all his strength not to cry.

“Kyungsoo.” Jongin said quietly, scrambling to his knees and cupping his face as he shifted on the couch. “Kyungsoo, please...”

Please not now. Please stop. Please talk to me.  Please tell me what’s going on in your head.

He didn’t say any of it, though; he just kissed Kyungsoo’s face, determined to force him back down onto the couch.

“I’m okay. I’m with you, we’re alone. The door’s locked. We’re okay. I’m okay. Please don’t...” He said gently, pausing to press his lips to Kyungsoo’s wrist, his fingertips, his cheeks, anywhere that was easily accessible.

“We’re safe here. You’re safe, with me. Please don’t get up, you need to sleep, baby.”

[Ksoo]

The pressure at Kyungsoo’s cheeks increased, holding him in place halfway between upright and laying down. He watched Jongin with sleepy detachment as the dancer’s brow furrowed and those familiar lines bunched beautiful skin.

“I don’t get to have it,” his brain continued. “Have to protect Jongin. A bar in Gangnam.”

He coughed once more, burying his face in his arm and pulling away from Jongin.

“Protect Jongin.” A mantra. “Protect Jongin. Can’t let Jung see. He’ll take him and I---”

His breath hitched with another wet hack.

“I can’t,” he murmured, burying his face in the sleeves of his sweater. “I love him.”

[jongin]

Jongin’s heart was in his throat and he found he couldn’t breathe for it’s wild beating.

“You,” he started, but his voice was choked. “Wait, did you--” he tried again, but this time his voice cracked with fear and hesitation.

His touch reassuring on Kyungoo’s cheeks, Jongin tried to swallow his emotions, shove them down past the heavy throb of his heart in his throat.

“Why...why are you saying that.” He managed to choke out, unable to stop the tears that streamed down his cheeks. It was too much; this was too much. Jongin ached in ways he feared he could never repair, felt a fear more vivid than what he’d felt in that alley with Shannon’s cooling corpse on his lap, tempered only by the hard spike of his pulse and his struggle to not blurt out, I love you too, you absolute fuck.

“You said...Kyungsoo...Jung isn’t here, it’s just me, it’s Jongin. You’re in my apartment, you’re sick, but you just said--you said--”

He swallowed hard again, his next words coming in a rush.

“You just said you love me. Kyungsoo, is that true? Do you?”

Please don’t let it be someone else, Jongin selfishly chanted to himself, his stare flicking desperately between Kyungsoo’s glossy eyes to find the truth buried in the darkness of his irises. Please, God, just let him love me back.

[Ksoo]

Kyungsoo must have been gargling with rocks, for his throat burned. His entire body ached and left him wanting nothing but rest. Sleep, perhaps, but more importantly Jongin’s presence. He needed the dancer in his life, no matter how Kyungsoo tried to push him away, no matter the danger. As he attempted to shutter Jongin out by sheer force, a necessary balance in his life lifted away. His path veered downward, at an angle so steep he might as well be falling. But now he could see Jongin here and now, tears coursing down ruddy cheeks.

“Why,” he murmured out loud, head fuzzy as he reached with one hand to wipe them away. “Why are you crying?”

He answered himself nearly outright.

“I did that,” he continued. “All I do is hurt him. Kim Jongin. 1994. Dancer. Home. Love.”

[jongin]

“You said you love me,” Jongin sobbed, leaning into Kyungsoo’s palm as it wiped away his tears. “Yo-u said...Kyungsoo, please, please don’t say that unless you fucking mean it. Please don’t because I...I...”

His fear had him by the throat. He looked up into Kyungsoo’s eyes, desperate to make him understand but unable to express himself because the fear shot through him with every hard beat of his heart.

“Kyungsoo.” He breathed, somehow feeling Kyungsoo’s sobriety and becoming suddenly more afraid.

“I...Home. Love. Just....say it again if you mean it. Please. Please...”

And that please was so much more sincere than any of the times he’d begged for Kyungsoo’s cock, was so much more honest and open and needy that Jongin choked on a breath and surged forward, his shame abandoned as he pressed their foreheads together, one hand threading through Kyungsoo’s hair and the other lovingly pressed to the side of his face.

“Say you love me.”

[ksoo]

“Protect him,” Kyungsoo murmured even as Jongin replied, as Jongin moved closer.

Talking too fast. Jongin always talked so fast, as if he would lose the ability to speak if he stopped for a second. His skin stuck to Jongin’s and Kyungsoo blinked at the words that hung in the air. The chill that danced down his spine set him shuddering but woke him like a bucket of cold water. Jongin. Kim Jongin. 1994. Dancer. Home. Love. He loved Kim Jongin. He loved him through and through and it came easily, natural even, like breathing, like he’d been made to say these three words his entire life.

“I love you.” Kyungsoo tried to find Jongin’s eyes, but lost them again.

He needed Jongin like he needed air, like water to a fish, like the moon and its tides. Jongin was his heart and soul and the necessary balance to keep Kyungsoo from tipping face-first into oblivion. Jongin was his and his alone.

[jongin]

“Soo.” Jongin muttered, and he sounded wounded-even to himself, he sounded weak and so disgustingly...pleased.

“Kyungsoo, you big idiot, you fucking...” He started, but his voice was cut off by his heart, which throbbed agonizingly in his throat. Kissing up the side of his cheek, across his forehead and down the other side, Jongin bought himself enough time to calm the fluttering in his stomach, the fear that made his hair stand on end. Everything with Kyungsoo was electric; always had been, Jongin knew, from that very first time he sat down in Sign Language.

He took a deep breath, as deep as he could manage, and tried again, his eyes closed to protect himself from the reality of what he was about to say.

“God damn, Kyungsoo, I love you too. I love you, I love you so much, please just--”

Kissing wasn’t enough. It was sweet and Jongin loved kissing Kyungsoo, but he found himself nipping, biting at the full upper lip that curved so prettily against his tongue, trying to impress the urgency of the situation upon Kyungsoo’s sick mind. He kept a hand fisted in Kyungsoo’s hair, moving the other to write “I love you too” against the side of his neck, still kissing him like his life depended upon it.

[Ksoo]

The sound of his name brought Kyungsoo to blink at Jongin again. He wanted to protect the dancer, but Jongin wouldn’t let him get up. Now that Kyungsoo wanted to sleep, Jongin wouldn’t let him. Instead, full lips danced across his face and then curved to form words Kyungsoo never thought he would hear.

Jongin loved him. Jongin loved him.

How? He wanted to ask but his mouth was soon occupied with Jongin’s. Kyungsoo answered as best he could, but Jongin kissed as fast as he spoke, leaving Kyungsoo to try and catch his breath. An itch surged up through his throat and he barely shoved his hand over Jongin’s mouth before a cough ripped through him. He turned his face into the sleeve of his sweater as another followed and then a third.

“You’re gross,” Kyungsoo muttered hoarsely as he caught his breath. “I love you, but you’re gross.”

[jongin]

“You’re fucking--gross--”

Jongin was still crying when he pressed his face against Kyungsoo’s neck to hide the flush in his cheeks.

“You’re gross and you said it first, jesus christ, I never thought--DAMN IT, Kyungsoo, FUCK.”

He did the only thing he could think to do--he bit Kyungsoo’s throat, just a frustrated little nip, but pressed his lips to the reddened flesh immediately after.

“I love you.” He sobbed. “I’m gross and I fucking love you and...” He drew in another deep breath, trying to calm the sudden explosion of fluttering in his stomach.

Kyungsoo loved him.

He wriggled and squirmed his way onto the couch, kissing Kyungsoo’s nose and cheeks and forehead as he forced himself underneath Kyungsoo’s body, one foot on the floor and the other braced against the back of the couch, his hands guiding Kyungsoo to rest comfortably in-between. He pulled until Kyungsoo’s head rested against his chest, his cheek pressed to the top of Kyungsoo’s head.

“You love me.” Jongin repeated numbly, trying to convince himself that it wasn’t a trick. “You said you love me.”

[Ksoo]

Kyungsoo’s chest continued to rumble with aborted coughs as his own heart stammered in his chest at the sheer joy written across Jongin’s face (or what he could see of it). He’d never seen the dancer so pleased, so ecstatic, and soon Kyungsoo was being moved. Rather than protest, he went as slack as he could, shutting his eyes to keep the world from spinning. Once settled, though, he curled up against Jongin’s warmth to fight off the chills wrapping about his body.

“I do,” he said as he opened his eyes just wide enough to glance up at Jongin’s face.

Tears glimmered on the dancer’s cheeks, despite Kyungsoo’s efforts to wipe them away. He loved Jongin; he didn’t want to see him cry, but he could do nothing about it as he coughed again.

[jongin]

Jongin rubbed circles into his back, concerned fingertips pressing in he he coughed, loud and wet, against Jongin’s shoulder.

“How long have you been sick, baby?” He asked, peering down Kyungsoo’s wide eyes. “You should have told me, I would have taken care of you sooner.”

Letting his head drop back with a sigh, Jongin wiped his face with the back of his hand, closed his eyes, and tried to focus. His brain kept interrupting his thoughts with bursts of light that somehow sounded like, He loves you, and he did his best to ignore them. At least for now.

“I’ll make you some tea,” he said, finally breaking the comfortable silence that fell over their conversation (they both ignored the television). “And I’ll tuck you in. You need to sleep. You’re not well.”

He tilted Kyungsoo’s face upwards and dropped a kiss to his forehead before he snatched the blanket from the back of the couch and draped it around Kyungsoo’s body, starting to wriggle out from beneath him to go fulfill his promises of bedtime tea.

He loves me. I love him. We love each other.

[ksoo]

“I’m not sick,” Kyungsoo groaned and shook his head. “ ‘m not supposed to stay here.”

That’s right. Jongin wasn’t to know he’d come by. His brain processed slower than before, his body heavy as he lifted himself from Jongin, blanket still tucked about his shoulders like a cape. Every inch of him ached, his throat burned, and each cough that crackled through him left him more exhausted than the one before.

“One movie,” he mumbled to himself, trying to remember the deadlines he gave himself. “I can only stay for one movie.”

In the back of his mind, he knew if he stayed for one more hour, even, he’d be asleep for the rest of the night.

“Have to protect you,” he continued, curling the blanket further around himself.

[jongin]

“No.” Jongin said flatly, hovering over Kyungsoo’s face to kiss his cheek again, then the back of his hand. He was reluctant to move; he didn’t want to come back and find Kyungsoo trying to run away again.

“You’re staying here tonight, there’s no way in hell I’m letting you leave in this state. You’re sick. I’ll protect you. I’m going to take care of you.” He paused--deep breath.

“Because I love you.”

Deep breath.

Jongin smiled down at him, sincere and full of affection and grossly content, before he disentangled his hand from where it had been running through Kyungsoo’s hair and loped off to the kitchen to make tea. He was practiced at it now, having done it so many times before when Kyungsoo had been there more often; the microwave beeped and out came the hot water, in went the tea bag-just dark enough, and then into the trash and Jongin was padding back to the living room, socks soft against the hardwood. He took a short detour to grab the tissues-the really soft lotion-y ones he’d been saving for the impending sick season, where he (and inevitably, Kyungsoo) would be sloppy, snotty messes-and returned to the couch.

Placing the mug on the table, he gently touched the side of Kyungsoo’s face, crouching before him.

“Can you sit up for me, baby?”

[Ksoo]

Kyungsoo groaned dramatically. He could take care of himself, done so for years. Yet, in the past several weeks during and after Jongin’s detox, he’d come to enjoy his time in Caprius 119, no matter how he tried to avoid it. Seeing the man he loved simply live was rewarding in ways Kyungsoo never thought possible. His heart fluttered as Jongin turned Kyungsoo’s words back on him.

I’ll protect you. I’m going to take care of you. Because I love you.

Blinking, Kyungsoo watched Jongin pad away, struggling to gather the willpower to get up and leave.

“Get up Kyungsoo,” he mumbled though he curled up tighter in Jongin’s blanket and laid down instead. He would get up. He just needed a few minutes to gather his things.

Jongin returned faster than Kyungsoo expected and woke him from his dozing with a touch to the edge of his face.

“Mmm,” he replied. “Five more minutes.”

[jongin]

“I have te-ea.” Jongin sing-songed, his smile curved in a satisfied way as he nudged Kyungsoo’s knees over so he could sit beside him on the couch.

“Come on, little prince. Tea, then bed time.”

It took some maneuvering and he tried to move slowly so Kyungsoo didn’t get too disoriented--but he managed to pull him up, pressed into Jongin’s side with his feet on the floor, still wrapped in the blanket.

His heart was going to explode if it beat any faster.

“I’ll carry you so you don’t have to walk. Just drink this, okay? It’ll make you feel better.”

There wasn’t any hesitation this time when he tapped the end of Kyungsoo’s nose, his smile getting wider as he looked at the sleepy masterpiece in front of him.

Sleepy masterpiece...that loved him, in front of him.

With an arm around Kyungsoo’s shoulder, he passed him the mug of tea, his eyes closed as he leaned his cheek against the top of his hair.

“You should have told me earlier, Soo.” He said softly, though there was no trace of venom or resentment in his voice. “I would have taken care of you.”

[ksoo]

Little prince. Kyungsoo groaned again at being moved, at being called little prince as if he were a child. Jongin maneuvered him upright and Kyungsoo leaned his head against the dancer’s shoulder. Only a few more minutes of rest and then he would be fine, more than capable of returning to the lab. His fingers closed around the mug thrust into his hands, warming him from head to toe.

“ ‘m fine—,” Kyungsoo started to say before another coughing spell interrupted him.

Even if he was sick, he couldn’t stay here in Caprius 119. Getting Jongin ill would make protecting him far more difficult. Jung could probably smell Kyungsoo’s fear from miles away. Taking a sip of the tea soothed the itch in his throat, quieting the coughing until it disappeared entirely. One cup of tea, then he would go. One cup.

[jongin]

“You always say that,” Jongin said drily, the arch of his eyebrow unimpressed. “But you’re not, really, at all.”

You’re running yourself into the ground, he wanted to add. You’re making yourself so ill you can’t even stand up.

Sighing against the crown of Kyungsoo’s hair, he hesitated before he spoke.

“So you’re not leaving,” he started casually. “Because you can’t even sit up and I refuse to let you go, so you’re going to stay the night. And while you’re here, there’s...something I need to know.”

His eyes fluttered closed.

“If you, you know...If you...love...me...why have you been avoiding me?”  

[ksoo]

That’s a question Kyungsoo would rather not answer. Behind his eyelids, the nightmares played again, the taste of blood stinging his tongue. Jongin dead, Jongin with his head blown open, Jongin strung up and covered in needles too numerous to count. Beside the dancer, he stiffened.

“I told you before,” Kyungsoo said, as graveled as ever. “I need to protect you, Jongin. From Jung.”

Except it wasn’t that simple. He couldn’t just wave his hands and guarantee Jongin’s safety. Locking every door could only keep Jung out for a limited time if he truly survived Gwangju and hunted him to the ends of the earth. Jongin would eventually become a casualty Kyungsoo couldn’t afford to lose.

He sipped at the tea, miserable at the downward turn their conversation had taken.

“There’s no ‘if’s either,” he grumped. “I do love you.”

[jongin]

“Hey.”

He could feel the tension in Kyungsoo’s spine, the cloud that hovered above his head. Jongin nudged him with his knee, his lip curled up at the corner in a devastatingly handsome smirk. It wasn’t even on purpose-Jongin just felt like Kyungsoo always flipped a switch inside his chest that made his whole body glow.

It was stupid, and he loved it.

“I love you too.” He replied, a little breathless. His cheeks were stained pink. “No ‘if’ about it. But you’re still staying over tonight.”

He wanted to point out that he’d be safer with Kyungsoo here than he would be alone, that even though he knew how to fight he didn’t know who or what to look for; but he didn’t want to darken the room with the shadows Kyungsoo was trying to keep away from him.

His smirk turned devilish a moment later and he nosed along Kyungsoo’s throat, his breath tickling and warm as he smiled and dug his fingers into Kyungsoo’s waist. Jongin had no idea if he was ticklish or not, but he wanted to see that smile again-see that pretty heart shape that made him weak in the knees. He was careful not to jostle the mug of tea in his hands, though, careful to not press too hard because he didn’t want to make Kyungsoo snap.

“I love you!” He said, and was too excited to pretend to hate how exuberant and high-pitched it sounded when it came out of his mouth.  

[Ksoo]

“Jongin,” Kyungsoo protested despite his shivering, despite the gorgeous smile that took up Jongin’s face. “I can’t stay over—“

Fingers pressed into his waist and a nose to his throat, cutting off his ability to speak levelly. Instead, half a laugh slithered from his lips and evolved into another handful of coughs. His mouth quirked in a reluctant smile as he balanced the mug of tea in his hands.

“I mean it, Jongin.” Kyungsoo attempted to keep his face blank and unexpressive, but little bits of sunshine kept breaking through. “You’re impossible.”

[jongin]

Jongin smiled big and scrunched his nose, digging his fingers into Kyungsoo’s side again.

“Ah, yes, I am-but it must be okay, because you love me, right?”

He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, daring Kyungsoo to say no to the warmth in his eyes and the comforting sound of his heart as it beat rapidly in his chest. He pulled Kyungsoo closer, taking the mug out of his hands to pull his back against Jongin’s chest like the first night they’d spent together in his apartment. He pushed the hair out of Kyungsoo’s eyes, let him settle comfortably between his legs, readjusted the blanket, handed him back the mug of tea--all without a word.

“Stay with me.” He muttered, idly drawing hearts on Kyungsoo’s covered belly with his fingertips. His chin was resting atop Kyungsoo’s head, so he probably felt what Jongin had said rather than heard it. He made sure he readjusted himself to speak into Kyungsoo’s ear when he next opened his mouth.

“Let me take care of you for once, love.”

Tomorrow. He could deal with everything else tomorrow, he could convince Kyungsoo to spill about why he kept thinking Jung was alive tomorrow, he could find reasons to make Kyungsoo stay with him again....tomorrow. He gave a low, rumbling hum that came from somewhere deep in his throat, his nose pressed into Kyungsoo’s hair again, breath warm and comforting over his ear.

[ksoo]

Kyungsoo chuckled again, though he swallowed most of it down behind his teeth. His hooded eyes drooped despite his best efforts. The mug was pried from his hands and then Kyungsoo himself pulled against Jongin’s chest. Even before he was settled properly, his mind filled with the memories of the night after he put Jongin’s face through a mirror. His guard dropped and he laid back against Jongin with the blanket curled over both of them.

“I can’t,” he protested with closed eyes and slackening limbs. “Jongin.”

Against his back, Jongin’s heart beat strong, singing with life. If it stopped, Kyungsoo would know immediately. Still, his very presence drew Jung closer and Kyungsoo himself was never entirely safe to be around. The hot breath on his cheek warded off another round of chills and coughs. More than anything, he wanted sleep, a warm bath, a night off to spend with the man he loved, the one who stood in the crosshairs.

The rumbling from behind him soothed his raw nerves and washed him in a calm he wished he could carry all the time.

“Jongin,” Kyungsoo whined quietly. “I need to go.”

[jongin]

The movie was close to ending, and Jongin was tempted to restart it from a few scenes back just to buy more time.

“No.” He said gently. His fingertips curled into the blanket, his eyes closing as he inhaled deeply, exhaled slowly, took even breaths just because having Kyungsoo pressed against him reminded him of how choked he’d felt without him.

“Soo, listen...” He carded his fingers through Kyungsoo’s hair again, breathing a sigh against his temple.

“I know you feel like you have to leave, but you can barely stay awake...you’re not safe by yourself right now. You love me, right? So you trust me...”

His face was flushed again. He cleared his throat.

“So trust me to take care of you tonight. You...really need me right now. And I need you too. So please stop trying to go where I can’t follow you.”

His voice got smaller as he went on, sounding more and more desperate until his cheeks had gone from pink to red. He tightened his arms around Kyungsoo’s middle, his eyes gently closed and his lips pressed against dark hair.

[ksoo]

Trust. Could he trust Jongin? Or, more importantly, could he trust Jongin to know best in this situation? Kyungsoo swallowed, his throat burning. The last time he trusted anyone was Jung Shinwoo years and years ago. Now, Jongin asked him to do the impossible. Or perhaps not so impossible. When he and Jongin laid in his bed like this, Jongin had taken care of him and vice versa.

Our collection. Our crown. Our rubies.

Trust was a shared project.

And he was already so warm, so comfortable, so loved. Staying would be easy.

“Only to the end of the movie,” he blinked his eyes open again and watched the two people on the screen talking with muted voices.

That’s right. Just one movie. Then he would head back to Aqurixum 322.

[jongin]

It hurt.

He grimaced, but he kept his mouth shut. He could try and talk Kyungsoo into staying, or he could keep him close, keep him safe, and see what happened when the film ended.

“We’ll see, baby. Relax for now.”

He hadn’t even gotten to spend the whole film with Kyungsoo; he tried to keep his childish pouting to himself as he bitterly remembered that he’d come in halfway through the movie, and that meant half the time he should have had. That was something else he could use for leverage, then. He took the tea mug from Kyungsoo’s hands, setting it down quietly on the coffee table and pillowing his head against the back of the couch.

He didn’t say anything else-at least not out loud, because he wanted Kyungsoo to get as much rest as he could. Maybe he would just walk Kyungsoo home, if he couldn’t convince him to say. He dreaded the thought of facing the cold, but Kyungsoo...he would be worth it. At least then Jongin would know he was safely tucked in bed, even if it wasn’t the bed he wanted him in.

He closed his eyes and felt the weight begin to drift from his shoulders as he started to fall asleep.  Deep, even breaths formed a gentle rhythm against Kyungsoo’s hair, his arms fitted snugly around his waist with a palm pressed flat against the plane of his chest.

[ksoo]

Despite his words of protest, Kyungsoo struggled to keep his eyes open. His blinks lengthened into minutes with closed eyes. The movie didn’t help in that aspect either: the cliched romance plot required no brain power to process. Instead, Kyungsoo focused on the steady rise and fall of Jongin’s chest behind him and the rhythm of the warm breath in his hair. Alive. Alive. Alive. Alive and here. Alive and in love with him.

Well before the end credits, Kyungsoo’s breathing leveled out, though wet and heavy. His world dissolved into nothing but a gentle warmth that spread from his head to his toes.

In his dreams, he found the same, for at least a little while. He laid on a beach, with Jongin stretched out beside him, long limbs a gorgeous bronze that glimmered in the sun. Jongin watched him over one bicep, eyes curled into crescents. Happy. Jongin looked happy and Kyungsoo wished he could stay like this forever, basking in the glow of Jongin’s joy. A shadow fell across the dancer’s body, a silhouette made familiar from the weeks of nightmares.

“No,” he murmured to himself.

He shut his eyes on the beach and opened them again in Gangnam, now bathed in neon light. No. No, he didn’t want to see this again. Not Jongin, please. Jongin loved him. Please, no.

[jongin]

It was dark, and Jongin reluctantly drifted upwards cushioned by the weight of his exhaustion.  

It took a moment to realize why; blinking his tired eyes, he mumbled an inquisitive sound, his palm gently smoothing over kyungsoo's chest.

Kyungsoo was wheezing: squirming, his expression horrified.

Jongin's heart felt like it was squeezing in his chest; he recognized the tremors, the tension in his shoulders, knew the reason his fingers were curling in the blankets.

"Soo?" He asked tentatively, crooning gently in his ear. "Babe?"

[Ksoo]

“Nno.” Kyungsoo twitched in his sleep. “Go back inside.”

Behind his eyelids, he stood facing Jung Shinwoo, angles of his face illuminated by radioactive pinks and greens and blues. Warm breath on his ear gave him Jongin’s position and Kyungsoo shuddered at the proximity. At this rate, Jung needed only to reach out his arm to snatch Jongin away.

Go back inside. He attempted to sign, but his fingers refused to make the proper shapes.

He couldn’t watch this, not again, not like this.

“Go back inside,” he repeated.

[jongin]

Curled around him, Jongin drew a deep breath to hide the prickling of tears in his eyes.

"Kyungsoo, baby, we are inside...wake up."

He tried to sweeten his pleas with his fingertips and lips, working delicately across Kyungsoo's heaving chest, the damp skin of his neck and his hair.

"Please wake up. I'm here. It's okay. I love you," he begged, eyes on fire as he struggled to wake Kyungsoo from his nightmare.

They'd always scared him, these dreams-but knowing what he did know, hearing the fear that rippled through Kyungsoo's smooth, soothing voice when he said the name "Jung", amplified everything. It didn't make him more afraid, Jongin had realized at some point-it just made him more desperate, helpless.

Kyungsoo was hurting-the man he loved was aching all over, and the only response Jongin could manage  was protection...love, shield, covet Kyungsoo like the precious gem Jongin always knew he was.

Keep him safe, because Kyungsoo was his happiness-his home. His love.

"I love you. It's okay."

[Ksoo]

Just as Jung reached out for Jongin, Kyungsoo woke with a start in Caprius 119. He surged upright, only to be held in place by the arms curled about him. Struggling against the embrace, he took in the sight of familiar sun-kissed skin.

“Jongin?” he wheezed out, heart thundering in his throat.

Around him, the rest of the apartment fell into place: beneath him, the couch he fell asleep on; across from him, the TV buzzing with white noise; behind him the warmth of Kim Jongin. Alive, he reminded himself, alive and well. Here in Caprius 119, Jung couldn’t reach the dancer.

Or so he told himself as coughing took the place of words. He shook with the effort of  each rumble, robbing him of strength he didn’t have. Not even the burning coals in his gut could help. Why couldn’t he sleep? Why couldn’t he let Jung lie in his grave?

[jongdong]

Jongin fretted behind him, brows knitted together in the center to keep his tears from falling. His hands were slow and sure, dry against the sweaty skin of Kyungsoo’s forehead and cheeks as he tried to pluck Kyungsoo from the shadows he saw in the corners of his eyes.  

“We’re okay.” He said quietly, kissing Kyungsoo’s temple. “We’re alright. You’re safe with me.”

Jongin’s voice was steady against Kyungsoo’s trembling limbs, a temporary salve for his feverish mind. Jongin fit himself into all the empty space around him; he nosed against Kyungsoo’s hair, dipped his hands beneath the blanket and began to work the knots from his shoulders with loving fingers. He stopped occasionally to run his hands over the tops of Kyungsoo’s arms, the back of his neck, his chest when he coughed again. He listened to the rattle of Kyungsoo’s straining lungs with an anxious thrill.

He didn’t speak when he sat up, carefully (if awkwardly) re-adjusting Kyungsoo to sit on his lap-the precursor to him standing up, which he did when Kyungsoo was securely cradled in his arms bridal style, just like the first few times he’d carried Kyungsoo to bed.

Jongin expertly tapped the “off” button on the television with his elbow, plunging the room into semi-darkness as he headed for the stairs, a chorus of small, comforting sounds coming from him as he carried Kyungsoo to the bed.  

“You have a fever.” he said softly, laying Kyungsoo on his back and sliding onto the mattress to curl around him. “I won’t let you leave.” He whispered, unsure if Kyungsoo was still conscious. “I won’t let you go. You’re mine...I love you.”

Nudging and nosing and wriggling closer, he managed to shift Kyungsoo until his back was pressed to Jongin’s chest and they laid side by side, Jongin’s arm looped loosely around his waist beneath the blanket, his chin resting against the top of Kyungsoo’s hair.

[ksoo]

As Kyungsoo caught his breath, he leaned into the gentle hands behind him pouring love into every touch. He buried his face in his hands, grounding himself in the here and now. Alive. Jongin was still alive. His love, his heartbeat, his everything--- alive. Maybe not safe, but alive. The nightmare that plagued him still lingered, but in the distance. For now, he needed to go back to Aqurixum 322, to place Jongin on a shelf where he couldn’t be broken by Do Kyungsoo, devil. Before he could shift toward his feet, though, he was scooped from the couch by strong arms. As if on instinct, he relaxed against Jongin’s chest, his breath rustling the fabric of Jongin’s shirt.

How did he let it get this far? How did he allow himself to love someone, to trust them beyond his own comprehension? How did Kim Jongin walk his perfect self into Kyungsoo’s life and root himself so firmly under his skin?

He blinked his eyes back open when soft sheets brushed against his skin. Wait, no. He couldn’t sleep; he needed to go back to Aqurixum.

“ ‘m fine,” he murmured, failing to sit up. “Jongin…”

A shiver tore down his spine and set him shuddering against Jongin’s warmth.

Fuck. Fuck.

[Jongin]

“Sssh.” Jongin said drowsily into his hair. “It’s okay Soo. I’ll walk you home in the morning. For now, sleep.”

Jongin’s eyes were closed, his mind made up about not letting Kyungsoo get out of the bed. He breathed slowly, willing himself to relax into the pillows. It wasn’t hard with Kyungsoo pressed up against his chest, when every intake of oxygen brought the smell of Kyungsoo’s hair, his warmth, the comfort of his presence in Jongin’s arms.

Shifting around the bed, he let one hand travel over the part of Kyungsoo’s shoulder that wasn’t flush against him-his palm slid open and warm down Kyungsoo’s side, over his belly to press over his heartbeat. He clung there, savoring the pulse that throbbed beneath his hand-Kyungsoo’s beating heart, the sound of his life, made Jongin feel at home. Safe.

Loved.

He took a breath, softly humming a melody that was close to his heart because he somehow found that it suited the curve of Kyungsoo’s lips, the weight of sorrow in his brow when he thought Jongin couldn’t see. He wasn’t fond of his own singing voice, but he was fond of Kyungsoo-he loved Kyungsoo-so he kept his eyes closed and his voice quiet as he moved to press his cheek to Kyungsoo’s scalp, his voice dulcet and warm in his throat.

[Ksoo]

Even as Jongin pressed a hand to his chest, Kyungsoo attempted to get up. He couldn’t be here, not while Jung loomed in the distance. He needed to prepare more, to protect Jongin, but his breathing slowed all the same. Jongin was here. Jongin was alive. Breathe, Kyungsoo. One night. If he could sleep well for just one night, maybe he wouldn’t make so many mistakes. Just one night. One night wouldn’t hurt Jongin.

What if it did hurt Jongin? What if this one night broke the careful fortress Kyungsoo built around the dancer? What if Jung broke in tonight to take Jongin away? Could Kyungsoo stop him? Could Kyungsoo fight with rattling lungs and aching limbs? Fuck. He had to get up, he had to stay awake. He wasn’t sick. No, he didn’t have a fever; the chill that ran up and down his back was only in his mind.

He tried once more to sit up, but found himself sinking deeper into the warmth Jongin offered. No. He needed to---

From the darkness, a quiet melody fluttered to life. Whispering across his skin, each note dabbed his raw nerves with salve and stitched the open wounds. Kyungsoo’s eyes shut, eyelashes fanned down over his cheeks, though he yearned to find the source of the music. A heartbeat later, he fell asleep.

[jongin]

It was morning and Jongin was disoriented.

He’d dreamed of curses cast deep within a labyrinth, the walls made of hedges much taller than his head, and he’d run for his life because wherever he turned, the breath of the minotaur that pursued was a heated stain against his shoulder.

“What.” Jongin mumbled, swatting out in front of him at what his half-asleep brain said was a low-hanging branch. Squinting around him, he belatedly realized it was his alarm--and it was loud--

“Jesus--fucking--”

Jongin kept one arm looped possessively around Kyungsoo’s waist as he threw out his hand to slap an open palm against the snooze button. Blearily, with his head still half-stuck in the labyrinth, Jongin fumbled with the clock and its offensively bright red numbers (“Seven,” he groaned, “Who the fuck gets up at seven....it’s a fucking saturday...”). He opted to yank the plug from the wall rather than figure out how to shut it off altogether.

He laid back on his side, soothing his rapid heartbeat by nuzzling his nose against Kyungsoo’s hair.

Kyungsoo...safety. warmth. home. Jongin’s sleep-softened brain repeated word after word associated with the figure curled up against his chest, but ended with three words strung into a phrase that made his stomach tighten.

I love you.

Jongin’s eyes fluttered open and the fingertips of his right hand dug very slightly into Kyungsoo’s chest. His left arm was numb, trapped beneath Kyungsoo’s head and shoulders for what Jongin assumed was the entire night--but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Slowly, so gradually that he barely felt it happening, his mouth curled into a beautiful, teeth-showing smile.

Do Kyungsoo loved him, and Jongin...Jongin loved Do Kyungsoo right back. He pressed his lips to the side of Kyungsoo’s throat, kissing up and down twice before he expanded the trail of his affection to the side of his face, his temple, ear, cheek. Kyungsoo was still warm beneath his lips--his fever might not have broken yet, Jongin couldn’t tell--but he was safe, only just starting to stir despite the shrill sound of his alarm and the insistence of Jongin’s lips on his flesh.

His laugh was light but rough with the weight of sleep.

“Good morning,” he crooned, wriggling closer to Kyungsoo’s warm, fully-clothed body beneath the blankets. “I love you, Do Kyungsoo.”

[ksoo]

For the first time in weeks, Kyungsoo slept through the night. From the moment he shut his eyes to the blaring of the alarm, his body rested. The sudden ringing, though, jolted him back to reality. Jongin moved and Kyungsoo shuffled upright for half a second before a strong arm looped about his waist, effectively pinning him to the sheets. The chills of the night before erupted across his skin once more and he pressed himself back against the warm body.

Jongin, he reminded himself a heartbeat later, brain sluggishly catching up to the rest of him. Lips peppered his skin, refreshing his memory further, trailing from his throat to his face, ear, and cheek. Last night, he’d fallen asleep in Caprius 119 after telling both himself and Jongin that he couldn’t stay. His chest rumbled and groaned with his efforts to breathe, but found himself chuckling lightly at Jongin’s greeting.

Love. That’s what this is. He swore it last night and woke up feeling fresher from head to toe. With one secret extracted from his skin, his entire body seemed lighter.

His throat scraped and pulled as he found his voice, “Love you too, Jongin.”

Kim Jongin. 1994. Dancer. Home. Love. Need to protect him.

Kyungsoo’s limbs weighed him down as he struggled to chase off the remnants of sleep from his senses. Leave now, he needed to leave now, and protect Jongin.

[jongin]

It took a lot for Jongin to keep from squirming when he heard it-he wanted to throw out all of his long limbs and flail and squeal, but he also didn’t want to irritate Kyungsoo so early in the morning.

Jongin settled for propping himself up on his elbow, peering down at Kyungsoo with sleep-soft eyes and a bright smile.

“That’s right, you do,” He said proudly, nodding his head and touching his palm to Kyungsoo’s cheek. He let the silence settle gentle over their shoulders. This was a moment he wanted to keep in his memory forever, so Jongin’s eyes raked over every detail: Kyungsoo’s tousled hair, the way he was curled around Jongin’s arm like it was a pillow, the way his hands clutched into his chest, how the light from downstairs shone upwards and lit up his profile, his full lips inviting in the morning sun.

If this was what morning afters with Kyungsoo were like, he could easily do it for the rest of his life.

“Hmm.” He muttered, gently sliding his arm from beneath Kyungsoo’s head. It hurt--thousands of little needles like static electricity shot through it--but he pretended it didn’t matter. He whined quietly and nosed his way up Kyungsoo’s chest until he was on his back and Jongin was laying on top if him, chest to chest, settled between his legs with his face pressed to Kyungsoo’s belly as his elbows supported his weight.

“What do you want for breakfast?” He asked, looking up at Kyungsoo from his perch.

[ksoo]

Kyungsoo watched Jongin in return, memorizing ever scar and freckle. Every inch of Jongin used to infuriate him, fill him with such a rage he couldn’t concentrate. Now, he wondered how survived without this light in his life, so bright and warm like the sun. He reached up one hand, but found himself turned over onto his back before he could make contact. Blinking, he smiled down at Jongin’s new perch. Rolling up the sleeves of Jongin’s sweater, Kyungsoo stretched his hand out once more to tangle his fingers in the silver-blonde locks.

A rumble erupted from his chest, another wet cough like those of the night before tearing through him, but his smile remained in place as his fingers slid through Jongin’s hair. His nerves panged with a sudden sour touch, somehow metallic and sharp, and his other hand joined the first. He didn’t want to let go of Jongin. Not now, not ever, not to anyone.

“Long-term exclusivity,” he replied, his voice low but stretched thin in his anxiety. “I don’t want anyone else to experience this but me.”

The events of the past week, blurred with sleepless nights, buzzed through his head, leaving his nerves strung tighter.

“I…” he began, ignoring the echoes of Jung’s instructions in his head.

Never apologize. Never need. Weak Kyungsoo.

“‘m sorry,” his voice cracked under the pressure of another cough. “For this week. I… I need to protect you. One day, he’ll— Jung…”

But Jongin was here with him now, so happy and peaceful— he didn’t need more of Kyungsoo’s excuses.

“You’re mine,” he hissed out after a beat, looking Jongin in the eye. “Don’t let me throw this away.”

[jo n g i n]

Laying across his belly, Jongin hummed softly at the touch of hands in his hair, eyes contentedly drifting shut-but the anxiety that Jongin heard in Kyungsoo’s voice was like a tightrope, and without thinking Jongin began to walk across it.

“That’s quite a heavy breakfast you’re asking for,” he whispered, eyes opening wide. The corner of his mouth ticked upwards into a smirk. Slowly, he reached around to Kyungsoo’s hands, still threaded in his hair, and covered them with his own-silently encouraging him to pull harder on the platinum strands between his fingers. His gaze moved to Kyungsoo’s lips before flicking back up to meet his eyes. Jongin was smiling.

Exclusivity. It would be a lie to say he hadn’t thought about it, but he’d never known how to approach the subject-a quiet voice in the back of his head whispered that perhaps he’d been too afraid of rejection to do anything about it. But he found that with each day that passed he was becoming less and less afraid of the idea of a one-on-one relationship with no one else involved. He’d caught himself daydreaming about it a few weeks prior, and now...it was here, being offered to him without his needing to say a word. But only for Kyungsoo, he was quick to remind himself. Because thinking of sharing Kyungsoo with someone else made his skin crawl right off his body.

So Kyungsoo must have been thinking about it, too. He’d been thinking about Jongin being his, only his, like... officially off-limits to everyone else. Jongin’s stomach erupted into butterflies with a blossom of heat that dusted the apples of his cheeks pink.  

Jung first, though. If there was anything Jongin was certain of concerning Kyungsoo’s past, it was that his concerns about Jung should be addressed first. He let his hands drop to grip Kyungsoo’s waist.

“He...” Jongin started, but had to clear his throat before continuing. “Jung, he may come here. He may come after you, and we can...We can deal with that when it happens, right? If it happens? You don’t need to apologize for this week. I understand why.”

Overwhelmed by his need for Kyungsoo’s touch, Jongin kissed the skin of Kyungsoo’s exposed forearm, still looking up at him with his brows a little pinched.

“I know that if he does...I know you’ll tell me to go, and I...” He drew a deep breath, his lip stuck between his teeth for a moment as he very carefully weighed what he was about to say. “That’s going to be hard for me. I never want to leave you, especially not if something like that happens, because I love you. And I’m scared to be without you. But I will do as I am instructed because I know you love me, too. And I trust you, I trust that you’ll come back to me because you know I’ll be waiting.” His lips worked at Kyungsoo’s forearm again, his nimble fingers tightening around Kyungsoo’s waist.

“And the other thing,” Jongin squirmed a little, unable to keep the smirk off his lips. “Exclusivity.” He gently shook free of Kyungsoo’s hands, eyes dark and set on his beautiful face. Jongin was deliberate when he slithered up between his legs, letting his hips spread Kyungsoo’s  thighs as he gently lowered himself down so they were chest to chest. His hands followed, smoothing up over his chest and shoulders to tangle in Kyungsoo’s hair. Jongin was gentle as he tilted his lover’s head to nose along the length of his throat, the corner of his collarbone where it peeked from beneath his sweatshirt. Jongin took his time, peppered little kisses here and there as assurances.

“I’m never going to let you go,” he murmured after a moment, shifting so his weight wasn’t crushing the boy underneath him. He let go of Kyungsoo’s hair and cupped his face, swept a thumb over his cheekbone with a tender look in his eyes.

“I want you to keep me all for yourself.” He said, his voice just above a whisper. “I don’t want anyone else to look at me, touch me. I don’t want anyone but you to see these moments. I don’t want to be shared, I don’t want anyone else touching you, I can’t stand that...you’re mine. No one is ever going to take me away from you. I’d choose death first. Kyungsoo...” He was aching by the time he got to the end of his sentence, aching with so much love that there was a tremor in his hands. He couldn’t look away from Kyungsoo’s eyes.

“I love you.” He kissed the center of Kyungsoo’s forehead, sweetly cradled his head against his shoulder. “I wanna belong only to you.”

[Ksoo]

Kyungsoo’s stomach dropped with the first few words from Jongin’s mouth. His heart froze in his chest, a hundred needles poised to strike, and the smirk that curled the dancer’s lip reminded him too much of the office in Gwangju. His arms grew numb and the sensation crashed through the rest of his body. This was it, this was what Kim Jongin, enemy, planned from the beginning of this entire facade: to curl Do Kyungsoo, devil, in his hands and smash him. Kyungsoo didn’t have a mind enough to stop him; he’d told himself long ago that he would rather die at Jongin’s hands than anyone else’s. At least… at least he would help Jongin in some way.

Don’t be ridiculous, Kyungsoo, his father’s voice echoed too loud in his ears as he looked down at tampered pages. That’s enough Kyungsoo.

He would rather die than to live knowing all of this— from the first day in sign language to the barbing attacks to the party to the bathroom to their collection on the nightstand and Kyungsoo’s toothbrush by the sink— was a lie. Don’t be ridiculous, Kyungsoo, no one could love a devil. Jongin had a home in Gangnam with Minju, friends in Krystal Jung and whoever else: there was no room for Do Kyungsoo and his stupid black pearl.

Rather than shutter himself away, he waited for the blow to come, suddenly too tired and miserable to fight. Coughs scratched up his throat, but he couldn’t bring himself to soothe them. There was no point. This was the pinnacle of Do Kyungsoo’s life, to believe he could be loved, to believe he was loved, only to be brought smashing back down. He’d done the same to his father with research and it was only fitting that the same be done to the one thing Do Kyungsoo ever wanted in the world.

No, love was stupid, a trick of the mind played on the weak, a mirage in the desert that lead the hapless to their deaths, believing that every trudging step carried them closer to the oasis. Yet, such a thing left Kyungsoo aching and grieving before the crush even came.

He… Jung, he may come here. Jongin continued, lips scraping across his skin like a knife. Just a little deeper. Just a little more and he’d hit an artery and the devil would no longer dog his every waking moment.

Tears slithered out from under Kyungsoo’s lashes, burning into his skin as they trailed down his face. Stupid fucking weak Kyungsoo. Don’t be ridiculous Kyungsoo. No one could ever love you.

And the other thing. Exclusivity.

Here it was at last, the guillotine’s rope had been cut and the blade screamed through the wooden brace. Don’t be ridiculous Kyungsoo. Fingers closed around his hair and lips peppered his skin, outlining his jugular, his clavicle. This was it. This was the last moment he would ever hold Jongin like this, ever feel love, ever wonder about the future and its possibilities. The edge of the blade cut into the back of his neck, releasing a shock of electricity that seared his limbs.

He couldn’t say he regretted all of this: meeting Jongin, coming to love him, living with him. He supposed his final wish was that it lasted longer, but that was the greedy little child clutching the black pearl within the ruins of his castle.

I’m never going to let you go.

Kyungsoo glanced down at Jongin, heart stopped once more. It stuttered in his chest as more words followed, spilling from Jongin’s mouth in a wave, washing over him and in him. The needles dissolved in the swell and swept through his self-inflicted wounds, cleaning out some of the festering debris.

Before he could stop himself, more and more tears escaped from him, the sheer emotional rush sweeping him off his feet. He forgot his fever, forgot his cold, and pressed his lips to Jongin’s in a desperate attempt to anchor himself to the dancer. Fuck. God, fuck. Fuck.

[jongin]

He’d hardly let Jongin finish speaking before they were crushed together-Jongin let a surprised noise out through his nose but by the time it hit Kyungsoo’s ears it was a pleased-sounding hum. He fell easily into the rhythm of kissing Kyungsoo, his head tilted to the side with his eyes shut. a thousand little lights pressed up against the underside of his skin-he was glowing, he was radiant in the wake of Kyungsoo’s touch and he didn’t want to stop doing this, not ever.

It was frightening, but in a good way.

One of his hands settled against Kyungsoo’s collar, the other supporting his head as he forced himself to break away for a breath. When he opened his eyes, he was a little startled to see the tracks of fallen tears along Kyungsoo’s cheeks.

“Soo, baby...are you okay?” Jongin asked, wiping away his tears with the pads of his thumbs. He rested their foreheads together, eyes wide with concern, trying to press up closer against him without smothering him. “Did....did I say something wrong, am I hurting you...?” Jongin lifted himself with effort, leaning more weight on his elbows and knees and trying to ignore that his heart felt constricted in his chest.

Kyungsoo was beautiful when he cried, too.

“I love you...please don’t cry.”

[ksoo]

Kyungsoo needed the kiss like air, breathed in Jongin’s presence and assurance. Every inch of him burned with the emotional afterwash, his limbs screaming at him to cling tighter, to never let Jongin go. His heart ached, but soon the pain ebbed away under Jongin’s lips. Desperately, he closed the last of the gap separating their bodies, pressing their chests together as if he could meld them into one.

When Jongin pulled his lips back, a ghost of a whine fluttered from his mouth, a thready prayer to stay please. The dancer molded their foreheads together and Kyungsoo sighed with  relief.

“I’m…” He fought for his breath. “I’m more than okay.”

Kyungsoo couldn’t hold back his lips when they pecked Jongin’s again. Maybe he could be loved. Maybe this was real. Maybe he wasn’t a devil.

“I love you, Jongin.” Kyungsoo stroked his thumbs along Jongin’s cheeks before tangling in platinum locks. “I… for a second, I thought you were going to say ‘no.’ ”

In reality, Jongin had a chance to say no every day, every hour from hereforth, to turn away, but Kyungsoo couldn’t dwell on it. He would only drive himself mad again.

Covering his mouth, he coughed once more, breath crackling in his lungs. Fuck, he forgot about that. Dammit, Jongin would probably get sick now, too.

[jongin]

“I love you too--easy, easy...c’mere, babe.”

Jongin didn’t think before he wrapped his arms under Kyungsoo’s shoulders and rolled over onto his back, letting Kyungsoo sit on his hips. Jongin’s hands smoothed up and down Kyungsoo’s back, comforting noises muffled by his closed lips as he pressed and nudged Kyungsoo’s limbs into a more comfortable position. He was half on his side, Kyungsoo’s face against his shoulder, his arms tucked into Jongin’s chest.

He kissed the top of Kyungsoo’s hair, loving the gentle thrill that shot down his spine when he looked at how perfectly Kyungsoo fit against him. As if to let him know, Jongin gently ran his fingers through his hair, soothing the rattling in his lungs with a warm palm that worked in circles over his back.

“I can’t say no to you, I honestly don’t think it’s in my DNA.” He mused after a few moments of silence. “I wouldn’t want to even if I could.” Resting his cheek against Kyungsoo’s head, he tightened his grip on the boy in his arms. Jongin let a few beats of silence pass, the wet sound of Kyungsoo’s breath making his stomach turn anxiously.

“So what does my sick little prince want to eat this morning?” He asked teasingly, trying to be light-hearted despite the uneasiness in his gut. “You’re still sick so I’m going to get you orange juice, but what else? Tea? Does your throat hurt? Your tummy?” Jongin’s hands fluttered around Kyungsoo’s body, his smile bright but his eyes a little strained with concern.

[ksoo]

Kyungsoo moved easily with Jongin’s gentle touch, grateful to find himself once again molded against Jongin. The dancer’s warmth seeped into his skin, smoothing over his wounds like a salve. Along his back, Jongin’s fingers brushed away the last of the tension bunching his nerves. With another sigh, he relaxed against the dancer’s chest, welcomed in the tight embrace that circled him like a mantle. He could get used to this, honestly.

The illness, though, he did not want to grow accustomed to. He reminded himself that all of his childhood was spent in a sanitized lab where the few bugs he caught were brought in by the scientists. Once he hit high school, he’d somehow dodged most of the primary illnesses that spread around the school. The facemasks helped in part, but his lab training ensured he never put his hands anywhere near his face in the first place. Now at Mugunghwa, he seemed to be fatigued, if not sick, on a monthly basis.

Jongin’s offer of breakfast now sounded far too good to his sick ears.

“Tea,” he replied with a dry throat. “My throat hurts a little. Stomach not so much.”

Food, though. Real food, cooked by his darling… boyfriend? Lover? Partner? Long-term fuckbuddy?

Partner. Partner sounded right. Partner sounded better than any of those other options.

“Eggs,” he continued after his mind returned to the more pressing matter. “Eggs, ramyun, and a real movie.”

[jjjjong]

Jongin might have blinded Kyungsoo if he’d looked at the smile on his face, so Jongin tried to turn it down a few watts--and reminded himself not to wiggle too much, either.

“As you wish.” He said, his voice light. He didn’t want to get up out of this bed--not with Kyungsoo all squished into his side--but he knew it wouldn’t do to make empty promises. He moved in to kiss Kyungsoo’s forehead again, slowly shifting away from his embrace, but underestimated the temptation of Kyungsoo’s lips and kissed him several times before he managed to scramble away with a high-pitched whine.

He threw a wink over his shoulder as he awkwardly thumped down the stairs, his joints still stiff with slumber but his head and heart so high in the clouds that he was getting moondust in his hair.

~

Cooking had gotten easier since Kyungsoo moved in. Jongin was a poor student in a lot of things, but he was an expert when it came to giving his attention to Kyungsoo. So he watched, picked up his little tricks, savored the curve of surprise in Kyungsoo’s eyebrow every time Jongin had presented him with something that was actually edible.

Jongin was beaming down at the tray in his hands, careful not to spill anything as he balanced the weight of his laptop bag on his hip. At the top of the stairs, his eyes darted around, automatically searching for Kyungsoo. There, curled up in Jongin’s bed right where he’d left him. His smile turned soft and he gently placed the tray on the bedside table, putting his laptop at Kyungsoo’s feet atop the rumpled bedding.

“Breakfast is ready.” He said sweetly, his fingers threading through Kyungsoo’s hair to move it away from his face. “You get to pick the movie, though. I brought my laptop.”

He settled on the bed at Kyungsoo’s side, his heart beating fast and his head clouded with the sound of Kyungsoo’s voice saying “I love you”, “exclusivity”, and “you’re mine”.

[ksooooooo]

“You’re going to get sick,” Kyungsoo called after Jongin as the dancer’s silhouette disappeared down the stairs.

He supposed that if Jongin didn’t care, neither should Kyungsoo, but right now the only thing in his mind was the new status of their relationship. His. Jongin was truly his. Until Jongin called it off, Kyungsoo could claim him again and again, nights filled with desperate release, followed by soft dew-dawn sighs in the morning. Only with him. Jongin would only do this with him.

Fuck.

His heart throbbed anew, but with the desire to laugh, to sing, to dance. The warm covers, however, were far too cozy to leave, so Kyungsoo settled for burying himself deeper in Jongin’s presence, in the hints of his shampoo, things he’d set aside for the past week. Fuck. He didn’t want to do that again. Without Jongin, he couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat, couldn’t think. Even if staying brought danger to Jongin’s door, Kyungsoo needed him.

Slowly, his limbs relaxed again, one by one until he sank into the mattress full body. Sleep tugged his eyelids shut, but they blinked open at the mention of food. He watched the dancer pad across the space between them, somehow still graceful despite the weight of a bag on his shoulder. Fucking beautiful.

Fingers brushed through his bangs and he hummed in delight, lips quirking in a wide smile. He crawled upright and settled against Jongin, his favorite pillow.

“Here,” he motioned toward the tray on the night table before he stretched to tug the laptop free of its bag.

He set it on Jongin’s lap and nestled in once more against the dancer’s body.

“How about a crime drama?” Kyungsoo asked once he felt truly ready for this breakfast-and-a-movie.

[jongin]

Jongin curled around him easily, an arm draped around his waist, the other balancing Kyungsoo’s plate as he passed it over his computer and rested it gently on Kyungsoo’s legs.

“Whatever you want, baby.” Jongin said, his free hand once again roaming through Kyungsoo’s hair. He motioned for Kyungsoo to start eating as he leaned forward to start up his laptop, clicking through the folder labeled “movies” and occasionally looking over at Kyungsoo to seek his approval on a title.

He ended up pulling up a movie they’d seen a few times already, but the pull of sleep grew stronger as their bellies filled. Kyungsoo didn’t make it to the halfway mark: his head fell against Jongin’s shoulders about thirty minutes in, his empty plate and bowl still clutched in his hands as his breath slowly evened out. Jongin’s lips twitched up into a smile again as he turned the volume down and slowly picked up the plate, setting it back on the tray as quietly as possible. He made it another fifteen minutes before he realized he’d been sleeping for ten, laughing at himself as he snapped the lid of his computer closed and set it on the floor by his bed.

Disappointment didn’t find him, though. He looked down at Kyungsoo with undiluted adoration, shifting to whip his shirt over his head before he somehow managed to wiggle under the covers and pull Kyungsoo against his chest. His brain danced over their conversation last night, to the one they’d had that morning-from love to exclusivity in less than twenty-four hours. Jongin settled his cheek against the top of Kyungsoo’s head, eyes closed, his breath deepening as Kyungsoo’s hands curled against his chest.

There were going to be more of these mornings, he thought happily--more evenings spent entangled, more sunrises that found them wound tightly around each other. Jongin found the energy to smile as he passed into slumber, Kyungsoo cradled firmly in his arms--right where he belonged.