☆meg☆

You turn away from the open window and see Daesung standing in the middle of your new living room. He’s dressed in a plain gray tank top and sweatpants stained with white paint in several places, holding a roller attached to a long pole. Fine dust floats around him in the rays of the setting sun after spending the entire afternoon trying to wrestle with a wall that looks like it might have survived the turn of the century. He looks exhausted, strands of hair sticking to his sweaty forehead and the muscles in his bare arms tense after hours of nonstop painting, but he still radiates that strange sense of calm that has kept you going all day.

“Don’t be so dramatic, Dae,” you say with a smile, wiping your forehead with the back of your hand. You forget your fingers are covered in paint, leaving a long white streak across your skin.

Daesung stares at you in disbelief for a moment before bursting into laughter. “Look at you! The landlady said this apartment had a soul, but now you look like a ghost that just lost theirs!”

“Hey!” you protest with a laugh, dipping the tip of your finger into the paint tray before gleefully drawing a quick white line across his left cheek, all the way to his ear. “Now we’re even, there are two ghosts here.”

“You’re seriously childish,” he laughs, but he doesn’t wipe the streak off his face. He only shakes his head in disbelief and points the roller at the unfinished section of the wall beneath the window. “Y/N, this place doesn’t have a soul... It never had one, because this entire building is held together by sheer willpower and maybe a few prayers left behind by former tenants. There’s no hot water in the bathroom, and that floor in the hallway? Every time I step on it, I feel like I’m about to fall through into the apartment underneath.”

You laugh, even though your throat feels slightly scratchy from the dust and the smell of paint. All the windows are wide open to air the room out at least a little, and the cooler air from outside drifts in, cutting through the heavy scent. Daesung is right. The apartment is in terrible condition, which is exactly why the rent is low enough for you to afford. The plaster is crumbling in places, the wooden floors creak with every step, and the kitchen cabinets look as though they’ve survived several wars...but it’s yours. For the first time in your life, you have a place that belongs only to you, and not even the cracks in the walls can take that feeling away.

You watch Daesung put the roller down in the plastic tray and tiredly run a hand through his thick, slightly disheveled hair. He walks over to the window, leans his hip against the wooden frame, and looks outside. From the fifth floor of the old building on the hill, the entire city is spread out beneath you. The sun is setting, painting the sky in deep shades of pink and purple. Below, streetlights slowly begin to flicker on, tiny figures move between the buildings, and the streets awaken into their nighttime rhythm.

“You chose it because of this, didn’t you? Because of the view...” Dae murmurs, the teasing tone disappearing from his voice until it sounds deep and soft.

“Because of this,” you agree, leaning against the frame beside him. “When I came to look at the place and saw this, I didn’t care that the windows were drafty. I wanted to wake up every morning and see this view. It makes me feel like even though everything in my life is a little chaotic right now, the world outside is still beautiful...”

Daesung turns his head toward you and smiles. It’s his usual warm smile, the one that creates tiny wrinkles around his eyes and somehow manages to calm you even when everything else is falling apart. “You’re crazy, Y/N... and a hopeless romantic.”

“Maybe,” you reply with a shrug, watching his profile against the setting sun. A huge wave of gratitude washes over you, the kind you don’t know how to express out loud. You think about how you messaged all your friends a week ago, and how everyone promised they would help you move, turn it into a painting party, and help make your first apartment amazing... But when the day finally came, everyone suddenly had an excuse. One friend unexpectedly had to work, another had a bad back, and a third didn’t even bother replying to your message.

You were left to handle it alone... except you weren’t really alone, because Daesung is here. The one who has less free time than any of them, who just finished a grueling tour and recording cycle, and who should rightfully be at home sleeping for fourteen hours straight. But all you had to do was mention that you were moving. He didn’t even ask whether you truly needed help. He simply showed up... Throughout your entire childhood and adolescence, Daesung has been the one constant in your life. Whenever you need help, whenever you feel miserable or lost, he never refuses, never says he doesn’t have time. He’s here... always.

“Anyway,” Dae says, breaking the silence as he gently bumps his shoulder against yours and pulls you out of your thoughts. “We need to finish that corner by the door so we can finally be done. My stomach is growling so loudly the neighbors will think this building really is collapsing.”

You spend the next hour working in a quiet, synchronized rhythm. The two of you don’t need many words. You never did. When Daesung holds out his hand, you pass him a brush without even having to look at him. When you need more paint, he’s already standing beside you with the bucket. Occasionally, your shoulders or hips brush as you move through the narrow space between the trays, and every time, a strange, inappropriate shiver runs through your body, one you try to blame on exhaustion.

By the time complete darkness falls outside, you finally put the painting supplies down. All four walls are freshly painted and brilliantly white, cooler night air flows through the windows, and for the first time, the room looks at least a little like somewhere a person could begin a new life.

“And we’re done,” you breathe out with satisfaction, wiping the sweat from your neck.

“Most importantly, don’t touch the walls,” Dae warns, looking around while gesturing theatrically with his hands as though he’s about to cross a minefield. “Everything is still drying, and if either of us leans against a wall now, we’ll have to paint it again, and I won't survive that... I’ll just die here, and you’ll have to seal me inside the wall as part of the interior design.”

The room is almost empty because you moved most of the boxes into the hallway before you started. All that remains in the middle of the living room is a large stretch of empty wooden floor and your old, worn-out couch, which you pushed as far away from the walls as possible. Daesung looks at it like a man who has just discovered the only oasis in the middle of a desert and immediately heads toward it.

“Don’t even think about it!” you stop him.

He freezes mid-step and looks back at you. “Don’t think about what?”

“If you sit on that couch in those paint-covered clothes, I’ll kill you.”

Daesung slowly looks down at his stained clothes, then at the couch, whose upholstery has clearly seen better days, and finally back at you. “Y/N, I don’t want to hurt your couch’s feelings, but I think it’s already experienced much worse than my dirty clothes...”

“That doesn’t matter. Nobody covered in paint is sitting on it.”

“So I carry boxes up five flights of stairs all day, paint your ceiling, and risk my life standing on that wobbly chair, but I’m not allowed to sit on the couch?”

“Exactly.”

“This is exploitation,” Dae mutters, but instead of arguing further, he looks at the floor in the exact center of the room, as far as possible from the drying walls. Then, with an exaggerated groan of pain, he lowers himself onto the wooden floor, crosses his legs, and gestures toward you with his head. “Come here, this is the safe zone. We can’t damage the floor any more than it already is.”

You’re so exhausted that you would collapse anywhere. You walk over to him, but instead of sitting opposite him, you turn your back and slowly lower yourself to the floor. Your backs meet as you lean against each other, and your spine immediately finds a firm point of support against his broad, warm back. You feel his shoulder blades moving beneath the thin fabric of his tank top as he settles in, along with the heat radiating from him after an entire day of work. Daesung leans back slightly, transferring part of his weight onto you, and you do the same. You balance each other, and if either of you moves too suddenly now, the other will end up sprawled on the floor.

“This is actually pretty comfortable,” you admit, closing your tired eyes. You let your head tilt back slightly, the ends of your hair brushing against his neck.

“I know,” Daesung chuckles. You feel his entire back move with his laughter, the vibration of his voice traveling through his chest and directly into your own body. “We’re like a human pyramid. Just smaller and less impressive.”

“Shut up, Dae, and be grateful we’re sitting at all. Everything hurts...”

“Same,” he sighs, relaxing even more until you feel the full weight of his shoulders against your back. “I feel ten years older. Do you remember when we carried those logs through the forest to build our hideout in elementary school? It felt easier back then...”

“You were twelve and had endless energy,” you say with a smile, staring into the empty room in front of you. “And you eventually dropped the biggest log on my foot.”

“That’s not true! I caught it right before it hit the ground.”

“Don’t try to save your karma. I had a bruise for a month.”

“Fine, I’m sorry,” he says with a quiet laugh, and the deep, ringing sound vibrates pleasantly through your spine. “I carried you home on my back afterward.”

“Yes, because you were the reason I couldn’t walk.”

“Details...”

The laughter gradually fades. A car passes outside, its headlights casting long shadows across the freshly painted wall for a few seconds before the room is once again swallowed by the strange, heavy silence of the empty apartment. The muffled hum of traffic drifts up from the street, along with occasional car horns and distant voices. Daesung shifts slightly, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he leans against you more firmly. You feel him inhale as though he wants to say something, but then he swallows it. Eventually, he laughs, quietly this time and slightly nervous.

“Y/N,” he says into the darkness in front of him. “I just hope you’ll invite me over again once you’re properly settled... And that you didn’t smile at me just so I would paint your walls, carry the heaviest boxes up five flights of stairs without an elevator, and then elegantly cut me out of your life.”

You burst out laughing and gently bump the back of your head against his. “Please, what kind of person do you think I am? I’m really not that awful...”

“I don’t know... People change when they move into new apartments,” he continues teasing, but you can hear the smile in his voice.

“You can relax,” you assure him, allowing yourself to sink more comfortably against his back. “I promise you’re the very first person on the invitation list for my housewarming party. You’ll be the guest of honor, and you’ll have unlimited access to the food.”

“First on the list, huh? That sounds good,” Dae murmurs.

You feel the muscles in his shoulders tense slightly. He stays silent for a few seconds before attempting to ask casually, with his usual boyish curiosity, “And who else is getting an invitation? Who are you planning on inviting to this housewarming party?”

At the question, your smile slowly fades. You see all the empty chats from last week again and remember every ridiculous excuse your friends gave you...

“Actually... probably nobody else,” you say quietly, all the lightness disappearing from your voice.

Daesung goes still behind you, and you feel his shoulders stop moving. “What do you mean, nobody?”

“I mean nobody,” you say with a shrug, tucking your chin into the neckline of your shirt. “You know how many people I messaged to tell them I was moving and that I would be grateful for some help. Everyone had so much to say about how they would help me and how we would throw an amazing housewarming party. But when it came to doing real work in all this dust, everyone abandoned me...” You pause, swallowing the bitterness in your throat. “You’re the only one who came, Dae. You, the person with the least free time, who should be sleeping for three days straight after the tour. So there won’t be a huge party. We’ll just sit here and celebrate, the two of us.”

Complete silence envelops the room. All you can hear is Daesung’s deep breathing and the sounds of the city outside the open windows. Because you’re sitting back to back, you can’t see his expression, but through the connection between your bodies, you suddenly feel a huge shift. His breathing is no longer steady, and his heartbeat accelerates into a wild rhythm that pulses directly against your spine.

“Y/N,” he says after a long moment. His voice is suddenly incredibly quiet and much deeper than usual. “That actually sounds really nice. Just the two of us here together…”

“You think it sounds nice because there’ll be more food left for you?” you try to turn it into a joke, but your voice trembles slightly.

“No,” he replies without a trace of humor. “I like it when we’re alone together…just the two of us. And for a long time, I haven’t wanted to be just another friend on your list, someone you call only when you need help...”

Your heart slams against your ribs.

“I’m tired of pretending to be your safe childhood friend,” he continues so quietly that you have to hold your breath to hear every word. The back of his head remains firmly and motionlessly pressed against yours. “I’m tired of pretending I don’t care who you date or who likes you. Whenever I see you with someone else, I tell myself I should be happy as long as you’re happy, and I genuinely want to be... But at the same time, I hate that I’m not the one making you happy like that...”

He takes a deep breath, and his entire body trembles for a moment.

“I see you differently, Y/N... I have for a very long time. I don’t want to be just the person who comes over when you need to move a wardrobe or fix a shelf. I want to be the person you call even when you don’t need anything. I want to be here with you because you want me here.”

Daesung finishes speaking, and his entire body goes rigid. He waits, and through your connected backs, the frantic rhythm of his heart pulses directly into you. Your own heartbeat immediately begins to match his.

You open your mouth, but no sound comes out. Suddenly, dozens of memories race through your mind. Daesung waiting for you outside school because it’s raining and you’ve forgotten your umbrella again. Daesung answering your call in the middle of the night even though he has to wake up early the next morning. Daesung knowing something is wrong before you can even admit it to yourself. Daesung showing up every single time everyone else offers nothing but empty promises...

He has been such a solid part of your life for so long that you’ve never even allowed yourself to think about exactly what he means to you. You’ve always considered his presence as natural as the sunrise, the city lights outside your window, or the beating of your own heart... But now, for the first time, you allow yourself to acknowledge how empty your life would be without him and how much you rely on him. How safe you feel whenever he’s close. How long you’ve searched for his face first whenever you enter a crowded room.

You want to tell him. You want to tell him he has never been just a friend you call when you need help. That he’s the person you want to call whenever something wonderful happens because his excitement is always greater than your own. That he’s the first person you want to see when your world starts falling apart, and that you need him far more than you have ever allowed yourself to admit.

“Dae…” you whisper, but before you can find any more words, the sharp sound of the intercom cuts through the silence of the apartment.

Both of you flinch violently, but you remain sitting back to back. Daesung quietly clears his throat, and the tension in his shoulders shifts. You realize he’s interpreting your silence in a completely different way than he should.

“That’s probably the pizza,” he murmurs. His voice sounds lighter again, but this time, the lightness is forced. “I ordered it an hour ago...”

Before you can stop him, he carefully pulls away from you and gets up from the floor. The cold left behind against your back hits you immediately. As the evening air flows through the open windows, it suddenly feels much colder than before.

You watch Daesung walk toward the door. His shoulders are still tense, and he doesn’t look back once. A minute later, he returns carrying a large, fragrant pizza box. He places it on the floor in the middle of the room and sits down again, this time facing you, keeping a safe distance between you. When he opens the box, the scent of melted cheese, baked dough, and tomato sauce fills the room.

“So,” Dae begins with exaggerated seriousness, as though the previous conversation never happened, “a fair division would be six slices for me and two for you.”

“Absolutely not,” you protest automatically, reaching toward the box. “I’m taking four.”

“Wait, wait!” He lightly slaps your fingers away. “What system are you using to claim four slices? Who did the hardest work here today? Who painted the ceiling? Whose arm muscles are practically bursting?”

“I invited you here, it’s my apartment, and I did all the precise work around the windows,” you reply, although your laughter is quieter this time. “My job required far more mental concentration. You were just mindlessly swinging the roller around.”

“Mindlessly swinging the roller around?!” Dae repeats, deeply offended. “That was precise paint application, young lady. I’m entitled to a larger share because my body burns twice as much energy as yours!”

“Fine, take the biggest slice, you precise paint applicator,” you say with a smile.

The tension between you eases slightly, replaced by your usual familiar teasing. Still, something remains hanging in the air... Daesung laughs, but he doesn’t hold your gaze as long as he normally would. He picks up a slice and focuses on it with exaggerated intensity, as though the tomato sauce were the most important thing in the universe, as though he’s afraid he said something only a short while ago that could damage your friendship...

You take your own slice and hungrily bite into it. After a while, Dae starts watching you again. An impossibly soft expression appears on his face, one he tries to hide every time you catch him looking. You eat so quickly that a small red streak of tomato sauce remains on your bottom lip. Daesung goes quiet and stops chewing.

“Y/N,” he says softly.

“What? Do you want to eat this slice too?” you mumble with your mouth full.

“You have a bit of sauce right…” He doesn’t finish the sentence. He puts his slice back into the box and slowly leans closer to you. His hand rises, and his thumb wipes the sauce from your bottom lip. He should pull away immediately, you both know it, but he doesn’t. His palm remains against your cheek, and his gaze drops from your eyes to your mouth.

Another gust of cold evening air drifts through the open windows. It brushes over your exposed arms, immediately raising goose bumps across your skin. In sharp contrast, Daesung’s palm against your cheek is unbelievably warm. His thumb remains just beneath your bottom lip, and you feel his hand trembling faintly.

You place your palm over his, and Dae takes a shaky breath, but he leaves his hand beneath yours, still pressed to your cheek. Slowly, you turn your head and gently press your lips to the center of his palm. The contact is barely there, but Daesung becomes completely still. When you look at him again, his eyes are wide and filled with cautious hope.

“You didn’t give me time to answer you before...” you whisper.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he answers quickly, as though he’s trying to rescue you from an uncomfortable obligation. “Seriously. I shouldn’t have unloaded all of that on you, I was tired, and I probably stopped thinking, and—”

“Dae...”

He falls silent. You press his palm more firmly to your cheek and wrap your fingers around his wrist. “I’ve been trying to figure out what to say to you this entire time. Not because I wanted to reject you. I just suddenly didn’t know how to fit everything you mean to me into just a few sentences.”

Daesung stares at you as though he’s afraid to even breathe.

“You aren’t just another person I call whenever I need something,” you continue quietly. “You’re the first person I want to call when something happens. When it’s bad, because I know you’ll calm me down, and when it’s good, because you’re always even more excited than I am...”

Your eyes begin to sting, and you have to pause for a moment.

“You’ve been in my life for so long that I started taking you for granted. Not because you aren’t important to me, but because I can’t even imagine you not being here. And now I’m realizing just how strongly I feel about you...”

Dae’s thumb gently strokes your cheek.

“I don’t know exactly when it changed,” you whisper. “Maybe it didn’t change in one specific moment. Maybe you were always something more to me, and I was simply too afraid to look at it directly. But... I love you, Dae. And I don’t want you to be just the person I call when I need help. I want you to be the person who stays when everyone else leaves...”

For several long seconds, nothing happens. Daesung only stares at you, so much emotion shining in his eyes that it makes your heart ache. Then his lips slowly curve into a smile. His eyes narrow into those familiar, cheerful crescents, but this time, you can also see the vulnerability he isn’t trying to hide.

“Say it again, please,” he whispers.

“I love you.”

His eyes close for a moment, and when he opens them again, he leans just a little closer, but he doesn’t close the entire distance between you. He stays a few inches away from your face, leaving the decision to you.

“Can I?” he asks.

Instead of answering, you lean toward him. His lips meet yours in a slow, almost shy kiss. Daesung kisses you as though he still isn’t certain this is truly happening. His palm remains against your cheek, his thumb stroking it gently. When you return the kiss and move closer, he releases a quiet breath against your mouth.

The kiss gradually deepens, but it never loses its tenderness. It holds an overwhelming amount of relief, caution, and years of feelings neither of you had been able to say out loud. Daesung doesn’t kiss you like someone who wants to take something, he kisses you like someone who has just received something he stopped hoping for a long time ago and is afraid one careless movement might make him lose it.

Your fingers slide into his disheveled hair, pulling him closer. A quiet sound escapes his throat, sending a shiver through your entire body. His other arm wraps around your waist, drawing you against him until there is almost no space left between you.

When he finally pulls away after a long while, he rests his forehead against yours, both of you breathing heavily.

“You have no idea...” he breathes, “...how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

“Maybe I do,” you reply quietly.

Daesung laughs, but his laughter is soft and unsteady. Then he kisses you again, but this time, you’re the first to pull away. You slowly rise from the floor, Daesung’s gaze following you. Without saying a word, you hold out your hand to him. He stares at your palm for a few seconds before taking it. His fingers intertwine with yours, and you pull him to his feet. As soon as he’s standing in front of you, he lifts his other hand to your waist and kisses you again.

You slowly move backward toward the couch without releasing his hand. Daesung follows without asking a single question, his lips repeatedly finding yours while his free hand remains around your waist to keep you from tripping over the buckets or abandoned rollers.

Cool air drifts inside through the open windows again. It brushes over your arms, your neck, and beneath the thin fabric of your shirt, sending goose bumps across your entire body. Daesung notices immediately. His hands slide from your waist to your arms, slowly rubbing over them as though he wants to warm you with his touch. His skin is still hot after the entire day, and the contrast between the cold air and the warmth of his hands makes you press even closer to him.

The backs of your legs hit the couch, stopping you. Dae breaks the kiss for a moment and looks at you. In the dim light of the empty room, his expression is tender but serious.

“Is this okay?” he asks quietly.

You nod, tightening your fingers in the fabric of his tank top. “Yeah...”

“Are you sure?”

“Dae,” you say with a smile, brushing your fingers over the white streak on his cheek. “This is exactly what I want...”

The tension leaves his shoulders. He bends down and kisses your forehead, then the tip of your nose, and finally your lips again. His hands return to your waist, and this time, he holds you more firmly, but with the same caution, as though he doesn’t want to rush anything.

You lie down on the couch, and Daesung carefully leans over you. He supports himself with one hand beside your head while the other brushes your hair away from your forehead. For several seconds, he only looks at you, his eyes moving over your face as though he wants to memorize every detail of this moment.

“I love you,” he whispers.

The way he says it tightens your throat. There is no hesitation in his voice, only deep, open tenderness.

“I love you too.”

Daesung closes his eyes and rests his forehead against your shoulder for a moment. He laughs quietly, but the sound trembles.

“I thought I would never hear you say that.”

Your fingers move through his hair. “Then you’ll have to get used to hearing it.”

He raises his head. “Are you going to say it often?”

“When you deserve it...”

“I’ve spent the entire day painting your apartment.”

“Then you’re on the right track...”

Daesung kisses you again, and this time, there is less uncertainty in his kiss. He remains gentle and attentive, but he allows himself to press closer to you. His palm slowly moves along your side and stops at the hem of your shirt. He doesn’t pull it away immediately. His hand stays there for a moment, his thumb drawing small circles against your skin.

“Are you really okay with this?” he whispers against your lips.

“Yes.”

His hand moves a little higher. The warmth of his palm lingers on your skin long after it moves on. Cold air from the window runs across your body again, but Daesung immediately covers you with his firm body. He kisses you slowly, your lips, your cheek, your temple, and your neck, as though he has all the time in the world. He isn’t rushing anywhere.

Every time your breathing changes, he raises his eyes to you, and whenever you press closer, his arms hold you more tightly. When your palms run over his bare arms, the muscles beneath your fingers tense, and Daesung inhales quietly against your skin. His palm stops beneath the hem of your shirt again. This time, he slowly pushes it upward, his eyes never leaving your face.

“Can I?” he asks.

You nod and raise your arms. Daesung pulls your shirt over your head and places it beside the couch instead of thoughtlessly throwing it somewhere room. When his gaze returns to you, he looks at you with open admiration and almost reverent tenderness.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers.

“I’m sweaty and covered in paint...”

“You’re still beautiful.”

You reach for the hem of his tank top, catching the thin fabric between your fingers. Daesung lifts himself enough to let you pull it over his head. Once the fabric is gone, you can finally look freely at his bare chest, broad shoulders, and firm arms, which you’ve been watching as he worked all day. Of course, you have seen his body before. But now, you see him completely differently... He isn’t just your childhood friend. He is the man you love, the man trembling slightly above you because this moment matters just as much to him as it does to you.

You place your palms against his chest and slowly run them over the firm muscles toward his shoulders. Daesung exhales quietly at your touch. He lowers himself and kisses you again while his hand moves gently over your side. His touches are almost cautious at first, but when you press against him and make it clear that you want more, his palm becomes more confident.

“Tell me if anything feels uncomfortable,” he whispers against your lips. “Or if you want me to stop...”

“I’m never going to say that,” you whisper with certainty in your voice.

Daesung kisses your neck and slowly continues lower. Every new touch is accompanied by his eyes watching your reaction. When he unhooks your bra, his fingers tremble slightly, and he spends several seconds struggling with the clasp.

“Do you need help?” you ask, amused.

“This is more complicated than any choreography.”

“Dae—”

“I’m nervous,” he admits with a quiet laugh. “and the way you’re looking at me isn’t helping at all...”

“How am I looking at you?”

“Like you actually want me...”

You pull his face toward yours and kiss him. “Because I do want you.”

Some of the tension leaves his shoulders. Once he gets the fabric out of the way, he doesn’t stop watching you. He kisses you slowly, gently, and with such careful attention that you’re already beginning to tremble beneath him before his hand even moves lower. His fingers glide over your stomach and stop at the waistband of your sweatpants.

“Is this still okay?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

“Are you sure?”

“Dae, if you ask me one more time before you touch me, I think I’m going to lose my mind.”

He laughs quietly and kisses the corner of your mouth. “Okay, okay.”

He helps you remove the rest of your clothes before lying beside you again for a moment. His palm moves slowly over your side and thigh without any hurry. Even though you’re lying naked in front of him, you feel no embarrassment and no need to hide. He knows you too well. He has seen you sick, exhausted, crying, and disheveled after only a few hours of sleep. But now, Daesung’s gaze travels over your body with such admiration that goose bumps rise across your skin again.

“Are you cold?” he asks immediately.

“A little,” you admit.

He pulls you against him, rolls over you, and covers you with his own body. His skin is hot and firm, the complete opposite of the evening air streaming through the open windows. His lips brush your temple before his kisses slowly travel down your neck.

When he finally touches you between your thighs, his touch is so gentle that you instinctively inhale and tighten your grip on his arm.

Daesung immediately freezes. “Still okay?”

“Yes,” you breathe. “Just... don’t stop.”

His eyes darken with desire, but the familiar tenderness remains in them. He begins stroking you with slow, precise movements, watching every shiver that runs through your body. When he slides two fingers inside you, your back arches beneath him, and his name escapes your lips. Daesung closes his eyes for a moment as though the sound strikes him directly in the chest. Then he leans down and kisses you while his fingers continue moving inside you.

“Like this?” he asks quietly.

“Exactly like that…”

Daesung smiles against your lips. There is no smugness in it, only genuine happiness that he can make you feel good. He holds you close, kissing your cheek and neck, and between every movement of his fingers inside you, he whispers how beautiful you are. Gradually, his touches grow more confident.

Still, he watches you as though your body isn’t something he wants to control but something he wants to learn and understand. He only moves faster when you instinctively begin rocking against his hand, and whenever your body tenses differently, he slows down for a moment.

Soon, you’re breathing heavily beneath him, your fingers digging into his shoulders. Daesung kisses you beneath your jaw, his breath hot and uneven, and an urgency begins to appear in the movements of his hand, one he is no longer trying so hard to hide.

“Dae,” you whisper, pulling him closer. “I want you, please...”

His hand stops. For several seconds, he looks into your eyes as though he wants to make sure he heard you correctly. Then his thumb slowly strokes your cheek.

“Are you sure?”

“I am.”

“I don’t want you to feel like we have to continue just because I told you how I feel about you.”

You stroke his cheek, your thumb passing over the white streak that still remains there. “I want to continue because I love you, and I want you.”

Daesung closes his eyes and rests his forehead against yours. For several seconds, he only breathes quietly. He kisses you with new urgency, but even now, he never loses his gentleness. He removes the last pieces of his clothing and returns between your thighs. When you feel the full weight of his naked body against yours for the first time, your breath catches for a moment. Daesung notices and immediately supports himself on his forearms to give you more room. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and pull him back down.

“Stay close.”

“I can do that,” he whispers.

He slowly rubs against you, and a muffled moan escapes his throat. His gaze remains locked on your eyes, but you can see how much effort it takes for him to remain calm and avoid rushing. He intertwines the fingers of one hand with yours while using the other to guide his cock to your wet entrance. He begins to enter you slowly, inch by inch, never taking his eyes off you. The feeling of fullness makes you release a sharp breath and squeeze his hand. The moment your expression changes even slightly, he stops. He remains completely still for a while, lowering his head to kiss your forehead and slowly stroking your side until you relax beneath him and adjust to his size. His own body remains tense, the muscles in his arms trembling with effort, but he doesn’t move even an inch.

Gradually, he begins moving inside you, pushing deeper, still slow and careful, until there is no distance left between you. He closes his eyes for a moment and exhales sharply through clenched lips, as though maintaining his self-control takes a tremendous amount of effort. When he opens them again, the desire in them is so intense that another shiver runs through your body. He holds your hand while supporting part of his weight with his other arm. When you wrap your legs around his hips and pull him closer, his breath catches.

His movements gradually become faster, but they never lose their tenderness. The old couch creaks quietly beneath you, and the sounds of your bodies mingle with the nighttime city beyond the open windows. Daesung kisses you in the middle of every movement, whispering your name and repeatedly brushing your hair away from your face so he can see you. When he finds a rhythm that makes your hips rise to meet him, he maintains it, never looking away from your expression.

“Like this?” he breathes.

“Yeah, Dae. Exactly like that...” you moan, tilting your head back.

He presses his forehead against your temple and quickens his thrusts. It isn’t mindless, nor is it a struggle for control. It is years of desire finally allowed to surface without fear or pretending. You feel the firmness of his body, the heat of his skin, and the way his muscles tense beneath your palms with every thrust. Still, even when his breathing becomes shaky and his movements more urgent, he never stops paying attention.

“Are you still with me?” he whispers.

“I am.”

“Tell me.”

You hold his face between your palms, refusing to look away from his eyes even though the approaching wave of your orgasm makes you want to close them and throw your head back. “I’m with you... I love you.”

Daesung moans and buries his face against your neck. His movements become deeper for a moment before he regains control and slows down. His hand slides between your bodies, and he begins circling your swollen clit with his thumb. The pressure in your lower abdomen builds rapidly, and your entire body starts trembling beneath him.

“Look at me, please,” he whispers.

You open your eyes. His expression is focused, tense, and filled with a tenderness that strikes you as intensely as every thrust. When his thumb moves quickly over your clit again and he says your name, the tension inside you finally snaps, and your orgasm washes over you in a long, intense wave. You clench around him, squeezing his hand with your fingers as his name breaks on your lips.

Only when you begin to relax beneath him does his own rhythm become more urgent. His movements grow uneven and deeper, his forehead pressing against yours before he thrusts into you one final time and comes inside you with your name on his lips.

For several seconds, he remains motionless above you, still supporting himself so he doesn’t crush you beneath his full weight. Both of you are breathing heavily, and your palm slowly moves over his sweaty back. Daesung lifts his head and looks at you. There is still a trace of concern in his expression, as though he needs to make sure everything between you is the same and yet completely new.

You smile and stroke his hair. “I love you.”

His expression immediately relaxes. “I love you too. I’ve always loved you,” he whispers before lowering his head and pressing a long, tender kiss to your lips.

A little later, you’re lying with your head resting on Daesung’s chest, listening to the slow beat of his heart. An old blanket you originally used to protect the furniture is draped over both of you, and the cold air still flows inside from the street. Daesung lazily runs his fingers through your hair, pressing a kiss to the top of your head every few moments as though he still needs to reassure himself that you’re truly beside him.

You look around at the paint buckets, rollers, the open pizza box, and the clothes scattered across the floor, and laugh quietly.

“What are you laughing at?” Daesung asks, lifting himself slightly so he can see your face. The white paint streak you gave him several hours ago is still on his cheek.

“I imagined my first night in my new apartment a little differently...” you admit. “Definitely not surrounded by rollers and paint buckets, on an old couch in the middle of an empty room...”

Daesung smiles broadly, his eyes narrowing into cheerful crescents. “So you’re complaining?”

“No,” you reply immediately, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him. “I’m not complaining at all.”

He returns your kiss and pulls you closer. “Good, because you’re not getting rid of me easily now.”

“That almost sounds like a threat.”

“It isn’t a threat, it’s a promise.”

Daesung presses a kiss into your hair. Outside, dawn slowly breaks over the city, and the first faint light falls across the freshly painted walls. The apartment is still old, broken, and filled with boxes. The hallway floor still threatens to collapse one day. But as you listen to Dae’s heart and feel his arms wrapped securely around your body, for the first time, the place truly feels like home.

“So,” Dae says after a while of contented silence. “That housewarming party...”

“What about it?”

“Do you promise I’ll still be first on the list?”

You open your eyes and smile. “You’ll be first... But I might invite a few other people after all.”

“I don’t like that.”

“Dae—”

“Fine,” he sighs theatrically. “But I’ll be the VIP guest!”

“If you carry boxes up five flights of stairs, order pizza, paint ceilings, and do this every time…” you say, running your finger over his bare chest, “…then you have an exclusive lifetime contract for this apartment.”

Daesung laughs quietly and presses a long, warm kiss to your lips. “I’ll hold you to that, Y/N…”

💚 Taglist: @missleezylou @minattozaki @ldydeath  @akivision @sweetpanda18 @thatxxdarling @jiyongiie @yourphobiavi