💥 BAMM!! 💥

The food -- and the sheer amount of it -- was definitely overboard, but he knew it would be appreciated. Three types of cookies, ice cream, cinnamon rolls, cinnamon bread, chocolate pecan pie, brownies, and cupcakes had been carefully packed away, sectioned off into containers, stored either on the back seat or in the freezer box they had brought along.

For once, he had skipped using his motorcycle, instead choosing to borrow one of Saeyoung's cars. It was an SUV, with plenty of room in the backseat and the trunk for food storage. Most of them had been too cramped, or "too precious" -- though he was sure that would've been tossed out the window if he revealed his plans for the evening.

Of course, he didn't. He couldn't. If the answer was no, then it would make things devastatingly more awkward. And, in the hopes that it was a yes? Saeran wouldn't exactly be rushing to tell his brother. The enthusiasm the revelation would bring was something he would almost certainly have to brace himself for long ahead of time. That wasn't a problem for Rowan; he was willing to wait. If the answer was a yes.

The doubt bubbling up in his chest, he lets a sigh escape from his lips, tensing as his boyfriend glances over. Though the redhead doesn't say anything, the question is obvious. Is everything okay?

Shoving another helping of frosting into his mouth to keep himself from stuttering out anything stupid, he nods, taking his time swallowing. It looked ridiculous, he knew, but it gave him time to think of a suitable response. "I'm fine. Just… thinking. You know how difficult that is for me. I get worn out in seconds," he jokes.

Saeran rolls his eyes at the self-deprecating joke, flicking a sprinkle still stuck to his finger at his boyfriend. "You can think just fine. Oh, and your mouth is…" He gestures to his own lips, prompting Rowan to wipe at his mouth with the back of his hand. It's totally covered in black frosting; in his haste to keep himself quiet, he hadn't been careful to not make a mess.

He can't help but smile at the ridiculousness of it, running his tongue along his lips and wiping the rest away with a napkin. "Surprised you didn't try to get a taste, sweet tooth." Though he doubts his boyfriend would've been that bold, he wasn't one to shy away from the opportunity to tease.

Unsurprisingly, he only gets a huff in response, though he doesn't have to check to know there's a light dusting of pink on the redhead's cheeks. "I was wondering when you'd say something like that. You've been quiet."

Just like that, the soft smile on Rowan's face fades into a slight grimace. If Saeran was mentioning it, that was a problem. Quiet was rarely a bad thing to Saeran; in fact, he usually preferred it. The fact that he was saying it like it was a point of concern meant that there was nowhere to run; Rowan had been figured out, and his only options were to stay quiet and make things awkward, try and fail to weasel out of it, or fess up.

The first two options would almost certainly ruin the cozy mood, not to mention put them both on edge. Confessing and putting his plan into action was definitely a risk, but at least it had a chance of not going horribly, right? They had been together for three years. It was unlikely that all of that could be ruined by this, even in the worst-case scenario.

Wrapping his fingers around his cup of hot chocolate, Rowan takes a sip, grateful that the other man never called him out on his tendency to stall for thought. The drink is far cooled down now, the taste being more uncomfortable rather than satisfying and relaxing, so he catches one of the remaining marshmallows with his teeth to chew on.

It takes a couple of minutes before he's able to speak again, voice uncharacteristically soft. "I was planning something for a while, but now I'm second-guessing myself. Are you fine to talk about something… kinda, barely, a-bit-yes-a-bit-not serious? And maybe a little sappy? You can say no at any time, but I just wanna know whether to say it or finish off these cinnamon rolls and drop it."

Saeran pauses, considering it. Rowan always liked watching him think, whether it was something a bit serious or more mundane, like which ice cream he wanted Rowan to get from the fridge. Something about seeing his boyfriend lost in thought -- as long as it wasn't in a negative sense -- made him feel strangely happy.

Silently, Saeran nods, snapping the brunette out of his lovestruck trance. Taking in a shaky breath, the nervous man turns his gaze back towards the sunset. Why was it that all the words he had planned out decided to escape him now, of all times?

"So, uh," he starts, already feeling a grave irritation at himself for his clumsy entrance into the topic. Blue eyes watch the other man curl his knees up to his chest, getting comfortable in preparation for whatever words Rowan would be able to stutter out. "I've been thinking. Again. But, for longer, and with a lot more difficulty. Shocking, I know."

Rowan doesn't give time for his quip to sink in. "I care about you so much. I don't say it a lot because I don't wanna overload you with fluff, but even just sitting in silence with you makes me so overwhelmingly happy, happier than I've ever felt before. You've changed my life for the better. I won't go over all that again, because I don't want either of us to cry on our cozy little picnic, but you know you have. You're my favorite person, my best friend, and--" Wait. Shit.

"I'm not proposing," he says suddenly, a bit too loudly, putting his hands up. Saeran jumps a bit at the sudden outburst, making Rowan mumble a quiet apology, but he settles back down easily. "This is… not that. Nuh-uh. That wouldn't be a bad thing," he clarifies, "but that's not what's going on here."

Once the redhead nods in acknowledgment, he tries his best to continue, deciding to abandon the sappy build-up. "I was in the store picking up some ice cream and snacks to restock the minifridge, and, well, right by the entrance, there's the jewelry display. Apparently, they were having a sale, so I popped over to see if they had anything nice."

Reaching into his pocket, Rowan pulls out a tiny velvet pouch, tracing his fingers over the soft material. "Most of it was the normal shit: fake diamonds, overly eccentric junk, a bunch of things that look almost exactly alike being treated like the makers didn't just super-glue a different fake jewel in the same spot. But then I saw one that kinda reminded me of your sweater. I mean, the pearl on it is exactly the same color. And then I went, 'oh! His birthstone is a pearl!', and… ended up getting a bit attached."

His eyes flit up to gauge the other man's reaction. As expected, Saeran's face was almost unreadable, though he was definitely listening. Granted, he hadn't given him much to work with. Good job. You started out sighing and moping like it was some grand big deal and now you're telling him about your grocery store trip. Get to the point.

"I actually found out they were doing a 2-for-1 deal, so I decided if my brain wanted to get that one, I should get another. I was looking at different designs, but I found a pretty similar one, with a black jewel. That's pretty fitting for my style, so I picked it up, and it wasn't until I got out of the store that I realized they matched. Like, really well."

Undoing the drawstring, he shakes the two rings into the palm of his hand and turning them where Saeran could see. With the gems facing away, they looked nearly identical; both with narrow bands, and a small gem pressed on the front. The only thing differentiating them from each other was the contrasting gold and silver metals.

"I know that matching stuff can mean a lot of different things in relationships. Some couples do it just for fun, sometimes things like jewelry can have… stronger meanings. Some people see matching like that as a promise to stick together." Wow, he really did sound like he was proposing, huh? Part of him wants to look up, to see if his last comment had changed anything, but his neck felt stuck in place, paralyzed by his own nerves. The rings noticeably tremble in his hand; he hopes it isn't as visible on Saeran's end.

"And, well… I'm not going anywhere if you aren't. I--" Rowan lets out a shaky sigh, brushing his hair out of his face, something he rarely bothered to do. "Honestly, it's not even as serious as I'm making it out to be. I only thought to do this because my stupid brain got attached to both and I realized, 'hey, you'll look really stupid matching with yourself', and I know your birthstone is a pearl, and I like the color black, so… yeah."

He can't bring himself to look up at the other man, but the silence across from him was almost sickeningly overwhelming. Shoulders slumping, he fiddles with the ring he intended for himself, trying to distract himself from the pit in his stomach.

"I kinda fucked up and made things awkward, but… to shorten down my rambling: do you wanna match these cheap-as-hell rings with me, as some kind of symbolism that we care about each other and won't leave each other, or whatever?" Rowan stumbles over the words, trying to scoop together what was left of his brain into a cohesive sentence.

There's a long pause as the words sink in, the world around him feeling totally still until Saeran leans forward, resting his chin on his knees. "You mean a lot to me, too," he mumbles, voice quiet. It's hard to distinguish any specific emotion with his volume, so Rowan listens intently.

"It's... nice, that you thought of me, and..." Anyone else might be worried over the hesitation and reservedness of the words, but his answer comes as a great relief to the brunette. He's not rejecting anything, or pushing him away; he's taken off-guard, which isn't ideal, but there's no trace of upset or discomfort in his tone. It gives Rowan the courage to look up again.

"I'm not going anywhere either." The redhead parts his lips as if to say more, but can't seem to find the words, closing them again and instead wordlessly holding his hand out, palm up. Rowan presses the pearl ring into his palm, watching with a small smile as he admires it. It hadn't gone poorly. Things were fine. Nothing was falling apart.

Saeran's nose wrinkles in distaste all of a sudden, as if he imagined something unfavorable. For a moment, Rowan feels a spark of panic, but he quickly puts the pieces together. "I've got some necklace chains you can hang it off of at my apartment. They should be long enough to tuck under your sweater so your brother doesn't see. I'm probably gonna wear mine like that, anyways. I can't wear it over my riding gloves."

The other man hums in acknowledgment, the look on his face relaxing into something more content that makes Rowan's heart clench. Finally feeling that nervous knot in his stomach fully slip away, he turns his attention back to the picnic, taking another cinnamon roll and enjoying the silence. It was like nothing had changed, and yet, he felt even happier than before. Though his boyfriend didn't say anything further, he could tell the other man felt the same.

The moment lasts for several minutes, picking away at the food still left in comfortable silence. It's only interrupted by a small splash of water against Saeran's cheek, causing him to blink in surprise and glance upwards. During their distracted peace, a storm was beginning to roll in, the previously white-clouded sky now totally covered in heavy gray clouds.

"Shit," he murmurs under his breath, tearing Rowan's attention away from the brownie he was finishing off. He quickly begins tucking away the food still left out, the other man joining him once he feels a droplet hit his skin.

Saeran is the first one to get to his feet, walking halfway to the car before turning back to watch him. There was no need to; it wasn't as if Rowan would slip away on the slowly wetting grass, or that they'd lose sight of each other, but it simply felt right.

Neither of them say a word as they begin shoving food haphazardly into the backseat, Rowan giving an annoyed huff as he takes note of the lack of room, reaching up between the seats to pop the trunk instead of going around to the front doors. As he wiggles his way back out, his boyfriend's voice surprises him.

"Thank you."

"Mm?" Rowan turns to glance at him, the tenderness in his voice making him momentarily forget the basket of sweets in his arms, the blanket strewn over the top turning dappled with rain.

"For all of this, and…" Saeran raises his hand, showing off the ring now slipped around his finger. "It was good enough to have an excuse to get out, but you still put in more effort to make it perfect. You didn't have to, but you did. Thanks."

It wasn't often that Saeran was the one to fluster him, but the grateful comment had his cheeks heating up. "M-mhm. It wasn't a big deal, I just… wanted to do something nice for you, and wanted to make things more comfortable. I know you get claustrophobic in the bunker, and it's always nice being out this time of year. I thought you'd enjoy it; I'm glad you did. It makes me happy, seeing you happy."

Just as quickly as the redhead had gotten to him, he turned the tables back around, the other man busying himself packing food into the cooler to avoid a response. His joy from the evening going well getting to him, Rowan continues to speak.

"I'm relieved everything went well. I was worried about so many things -- maybe the cooler wouldn't be cold enough and things would melt, or something would get dropped or squished, or you'd think I was weird, that I was doing too much but then that I wasn't doing enough… a bunch of irrational shit like that. So, um… it really was perfect?"

"Yeah, it was." The short answer makes him smile, bouncing on the balls of his feet for a moment when Saeran isn't looking. The other man was never bothered by his stimming, nor did he judge him, but for once, he was the one more embarrassed by his love for the other man.

“Honestly? I had a dream about giving you some big romantic speech like that and wanted to make it real. Only this time, it wasn't as smooth, and the sky doesn’t explode.” Saeran pauses, mid-tucking away the picnic blanket.

“What?”

"Yeah. it was some biiiig date I set up, and I had fireworks and everything, but somehow the fireworks messed up earth's atmosphere and ended up killing all of humanity. Really sucked. This is a lot nicer. Less heat death of the universe and more coziness, y'know.”

Saeran stares incredulously for a moment, finally sighing and shaking his head. “I don’t get how you work at all.” His tone is affectionate despite his words, and the corner of his lips struggle not to twitch up into a smile.

“If I recall correctly, you just signed up to not get me, like, three minutes ago. Forever.” Rowan lifts his hand to close the trunk, pausing before looking back at his boyfriend with a smile, turning and falling into the cozy mess of blankets stuffed into the trunk, wiggling his fingers at the other man.

At the open invitation to cuddle, Saeran doesn't hesitate, shoving the cooler over a bit before moving to settle in front of him and leaning back against his chest with a frown. “You’re implying that I won’t ever get you.“

“Well, I don't know. I don’t have a me manual, pumpkin. If you want one, you’re gonna have to write that yourself. Good luck.”

The redhead tilts his head back to look up at him, lazily brushing his lips against his jawline for just a moment. “Mm, you’re not that complicated. Give me two weeks.”

Saeran was unhappy.

Though not an uncommon feeling for the other man after all he'd been through, being in the hospital evoked the feeling strongly. He was constantly feeling judged, being watched, and it felt suffocating. His lack of choice was all too obvious now. If having most of the control he had over his own body being taken away wasn't enough, being forced to see people he didn't want to deal with was the final nail in his coffin.

It was overwhelming, upsetting, and made him want to disappear more than ever before. Trying to shut out the rest of the world wasn't an option, as it only forced its way in. Unless he had to answer whoever stopped by, Saeran ignored their questions and small talk, and eventually they gave up. Everyone had, except for that boy.

Rowan had been easy enough to lure to the apartment. He obviously hadn't trusted Saeran, and was just as uneasy around the RFA at first. However, he stayed to work as their party coordinator simply because he "had nothing better to do". Of course, with the tense situation that developed, he became far from bored. "Terrified" was a better descriptor.

The guilt Saeran felt over that was overwhelming. He'd been the one to choose Rowan, to lure him in, to try to kidnap him. He killed a man right in front of him. Had it not been for him, the party coordinator wouldn't have ever been dragged into this. Which made it all the more confusing when he came to visit alongside his brother.

The ex-hacker had been so shocked at his appearance, he remained silent only because he wasn't sure what to say. His guest left defeated, but he returned alone the next day, and the next. In fact, despite Saeran's silence, Rowan kept showing up, coming by to ramble at him about his day-to-day life and eventually to sit quietly and read. The silence was a lot more comfortable.

He let the silence remain til the other man came to his defense from a rude nurse. After that, he hesitantly reached out, reigniting his guest's desire to speak to him. The ex-hacker barely replied, and his guest enthusiastically continued on like it was normal. It started off shakily, and he would cut short any inquiries on his wellbeing and brushed off Rowan's attempts at comfort on bad days, but it went well.

They had made a lot of progress since then.

The last time Rowan was here, he held his hand. The other man had sensed his upset and reached to comfort him. Despite his first instinct to push him away, he accepted it without argument, not returning the favor or rejecting it. It felt so warm. When was the last time he got to feel another’s touch without being hurt or manipulated in the process? A brief image of his brother’s arms wrapping around him flashes in his mind, and he scowls.

Saeyoung. Saeran still wasn’t alright with him, not fully, but he was trying. As much as he hated it, he was jealous of his twin. Not just for his carefree lifestyle all these years or the friends that supported him so steadfastly, but for his relationship with Rowan. When he saw them, they were laughing and falling over each other or comforting one another. There was always some physical contact, and so much trust.

Rowan had confirmed that no, they weren’t together like he had assumed, but the bond they shared was perfectly sweet. He felt starved watching them. It was then, when he deciphered what that tension he felt when he saw them together was, that he faced his feelings for the brunette.

He was smitten. Completely, utterly, sickeningly smitten; when he realized his feelings, he had grown so nauseated it made his head spin. He wasn’t entirely sure he was in that deep, but only such a dramatic word could describe the heaviness with which it weighed on him. Someone like him wasn't meant for feelings like this.

The next time Rowan visited, Saeran blamed his suddenly more reserved behavior on the medicine he was being given. He wasn’t questioned, but the guilt of lying stung.

Saeran couldn't let himself feel this. It was inevitable that he would prove himself yet again to be a monster. He would hurt Rowan and it was eating him alive, but he'd rather let the feeling fester inside of him than cause the man any more pain or stress. It was easier said than done.

Nothing had filled that deep, all-encompassing void of guilt inside of him but the other man's visits. Hiis quips and words of comfort provided some relief. It was barely making a change, but the air still felt lighter around him. There was no tension, no distrust, and he never felt cornered.

He could just exist, never feeling pressured to do any more than that.

These awful feelings threw a wrench into that, but it was nothing he couldn't handle. Just like every other thought and feeling, he wanted to push it down in the hopes of suffocating it until it was quiet or died. Or until it explodes and destroys everyone around you, a small voice in the back of his mind whispers. That was just as likely, and the thought terrified him. His hands clench in the thin sheets of the bed, trying to ground himself the best he can.

Downstairs, Rowan worries his bottom lip between his teeth, tapping his boot nervously against the ground as he waits for his security escort. He knows his anxiety comes off as impatience to the staff, giving him more room than everyone else as he leans against the wall, and he lets it stay that way. With the feelings swarming in his mind, he was sure that any invasion of his space might set him off.

After countless visits, coming to see Saeran during his recovery became a routine he enjoyed greatly. It wasn't always this nice; the first few times, he came with Saeyoung, but after being met with silence, he persuaded the hacker to let him come on his own. Nothing changed at first, the room being filled with an awkward silence as Rowan attempted one-sided conversations. The man refused to respond, rarely even offering him a glance. It frustrated him to no end; even after dropping his own guard, he hadn't gotten anywhere.

Eventually he gave up on trying to communicate, simply coming to sit in the corner and read. It had to be lonely, being stuck there, so he figured having another heartbeat in the room that wasn't poking or prodding him or interrogating him on his mental state might help. The tension in the air had quickly faded into something more peaceful, and some of Saeran's guard visibly slipped away. That was good enough for Rowan; as long as he wasn't actively being shut out, it was still progress.

Surprisingly, Saeran was the one to break the silence, though not without good reason. Much to their annoyance, a nurse interrupted their visitation, disturbing the peaceful co-existence they had with each other. She was everything Rowan hated to see: pushy, unsympathetic, and completely uncaring about his mental wellbeing.

It made his heart hurt, seeing the other man flinch when she slammed her clipboard down on his bedside table. Every word out of her mouth was ridicule, and though he knew the ex-hacker was used to such talk, that didn't mean it didn't hurt.

When she left with one last comment on how scrawny he still was, Rowan didn't hesitate to jump up from his seat. Following behind, he proceeded to chew her out. For her complete lack of experience, for her apathy, for taking out whatever the hell was wrong with her on Saeran. It wasn't long before his voice raised, but he was careful not to start screaming. The last thing he wanted was to upset the already stressed man more.

It didn't surprise Rowan that his friendly feelings grew into something stronger, but that didn't make the realization any less terrifying. For the first few days, he struggled to reel himself back in, trying to shove his feelings to the back of his mind so he could be there for the other man without guilt eating away at him. Being so friendly to him only felt like he was taking advantage of the man's barely earned trust.

It didn't last, as he noticed Saeran growing increasingly tense at his less emotional, more closed-off responses. With a quick explanation, claiming he'd not been feeling like himself -- not a complete lie, as such a deep feeling had knocked him off his feet -- and that he was sorry, he mended the situation and forced himself to swallow his guilt.

He could tell Saeran didn't fully believe him, but the man was obviously relieved to have things back to normal the next visit, when Rowan came in grinning. It earned him a small smile in return, the first he'd seen from the man.

Rowan is torn from his reminiscing by a security guard clearing her throat. She nods towards an open elevator. "Come on, tough guy. I'll drop you off." Though he bristles at the obviously mocking title, he doesn't argue, not wanting to get kicked out. Instead, he trails after her and steps in, trying to calm the fluttering that starts up in his chest at the thought of seeing the other man.

The ride up is tense, the brunette almost lunging forward when the doors slide open. "Thanks," he calls over his shoulder with a scowl. Though he always looked forward to the visits, he hated dealing with the staff. Setting his eyes on Saeran's door, he picks up the pace, hurrying down the hall as fast as he can despite his slight nervousness.

Before Saeran's thoughts can spiral anymore out of control, the all-too-familiar sound of chains clinking together sounds down the hall, the thoughts slipping from his mind to let him focus. It was definitely him; despite the noisiness of his entrance, the steps sounded hesitant, stumbling over themselves. The awkwardness always manages to make his heart feel a bit lighter, some of the dread that had been bubbling up inside of him slipping away.

As expected, the footsteps come towards his room, stopping just outside for a moment. There's a pause, his guest taking a moment for a deep breath, before the door is cautiously pushed open. Rowan jumps a bit upon seeing him, obviously not expecting Saeran to be sat up waiting for him. The surprised look on his face quickly fades into a soft smile, some of the tension he entered with easing from his shoulders.

The man always put up a tough exterior, Saeran knew, but he trusted him enough to let that down. Whether that was because he wanted mutual trust or because he was just plain stupid, the ex-hacker wasn't quite sure, but it never bothered him, and he never bought up the subject.

The brunette shuffles his way over to him without a word, taking a seat in the chair next to the bed. Everything about him is a contradiction: the gentle look on his face combined with his dark and intentionally rough exterior, the way he avoided eye contact despite his obvious distaste at being seen as a pushover, how he still wandered to his side like a clueless puppy despite all Saeran had done, as if he wasn't dangerous.

That frustrated him most of all. He was trying so hard to protect everyone for once after he had planned to destroy their lives. It was like the male could see right through him, but never saw what Saeran wanted him to.

As usual, Rowan slouches forward, giving him that stupid grin that made his stomach flutter and twist up all at the same time. "Sorry I'm late, but I'm sure you're used to it now. Have you eaten yet? I kinda had to skip lunch, didn't have time." He trips over his words mid-sentence, distracted by the way that his heavy jacket slips off his shoulder.

Every visit started the same, his visitor pitifully trying to disguise his fretting as small talk and him offering up muttered responses. It was still progress from how they started, but Saeran always felt some guilt seeing how much effort the other man put into trying to talk to him. Wanting to change that the best he could, he tries speaking up some, clearing his throat. ''No. I don't like the food."

Contradictory to the pout he usually gives at that response, Rowan's eyes light up. "Great! Um. Not that you haven't eaten because the food sucks. Just... gimme a second." With that, he hops up from his seat, scurrying back to the door, nearly forgetting to put up his facade before motioning for a nurse.

Saeran can't decipher much from his position, only picking up on the word "privacy" and the dirty look the man shoots the nurse when she shakes her head. Only a few more words are exchanged before his expression brightens, and he whirls back around.

To his surprise, the unusually peppy man closes the door. That had never been allowed before, both for Saeran's safety and his visitor's. But Rowan was always rather convincing, not to mention stubborn, so it wasn't too shocking that he was the one earning him that right.

The act now fully slipped away again, Rowan practically trips over his feet moving back, rummaging through the pockets of his oversized jacket for something. Had it been anyone else, he might've been paranoid or distrusting, but he knew the man in front of him wasn't a threat in the slightest.

Once again stunning Saeran, the man pulls out ice cream -- an entire tub of it. Mint chocolate, he noted, feeling his heart skip a beat at the realization that he had remembered his favorite flavor. Outside food was also previously off-limits, and guessing from the way he had asked for privacy, it still was.

Once again, the man isn't making sense. Not only has he gone out of his way to visit daily, staying even on Saeran's worst days until he's either asked to leave or is forced out by the staff, now he's breaking rules and risking trouble for himself all for his sake. Why? He was a monster and a murderer, and he's being smuggled in gifts?

All of the kindness he was offered was foreign to him, and perhaps that was for the best. He didn't deserve any of it. All he deserves is to rot in this awful place, his nose constantly stinging from the scent of medicine and his eyes burning under the blindingly bright fluorescent light.

"...Saeran?" Broken out of his trance, he shakes his head, feeling a tinge of annoyance seeing the red that reflects off the bedpost in his peripheral. His natural color hadn't grown back much, but it was enough to put a scowl on his face. Not once did he want to let the white fade, wanting to have some semblance of separation from his brother, but he didn't have a choice. Not here, not anywhere.

Only Rowan ever offered him control, and even he himself was limited in what he could allow. It wasn't fair. That, too, made him grateful for his stubborn visitor. It was rare for him to give up when he had his mind set on something, and that gave Saeran a lot more freedom than he would have without him.

"I'm fine," he reassures. Rowan doesn't look convinced, but he doesn't pry, instead placing the tub on the sheets between them before digging in his pocket for a packet of utensils, unmistakably snagged from the hospital's cafeteria. Placing it in his resting hand, the man gives a paranoid glance back towards the door before grinning widely.

"I don't think they're onto me, so go ahead and eat up." Though he hesitates a moment, Saeran reaches out to pull the ice cream into his lap, popping the lid and taking a scoop. It's slightly melted as expected; it couldn't have made the trip by motorcycle all the way over here and through the wait downstairs totally unscathed. It's tasty nonetheless, a huge relief from the blandness of the food he had to eat here. Before long, he's digging in, feeling starved despite having the three meals a day rule enforced on him.

After a couple of minutes, he glances up at his guest, perplexed to find him entertaining himself by winding a loose thread of the sheets around his finger. It was rare that Rowan was this quiet for so long, and even stranger that he wasn't busying himself the same way that Saeran was. Sinking his spoon into the cold mint, he hums to get the other man's attention. Immediately his eyes are on him, deep blue piercing into him and making him melt and tense up all at the same time.

"What are you doing?" He asks, eyes flitting between his face and the string half-wound around his finger. The other man glances away sheepishly, though he doesn't flinch at his blunt tone; yet another thing they were making progress on. Rowan pauses, searching for a good answer and sighing in defeat when he can't find one.

"...sitting here?" He answers quietly, giving Saeran an uncertain look. "I don't really have anything to do. I was already running late, so when I swung by the store, I just grabbed the ice cream and left."

"Didn't you say you didn't eat lunch?" The redhead questions with a raised brow. The silence lingering in the room tells him all he needs to know. Huffing, he shoves the tub towards him without a second thought, surprising the both of them. It was unusual for him to share anything, especially this, but he wasn't about to pull his foot back when he was already taking a step forward. "Go on. You'll make yourself sick if you don't."

Though he wouldn't admit it out loud -- he wasn't sure he could even if he really wanted to -- Saeran cared for the other man deeply. It wasn't just the budding feelings of affection. His worry for his wellbeing, though underlying, had lingered ever since the party coordinator had set foot in that apartment.

If he didn't care, he wouldn't have stopped him from stepping on the glass from the window. Of course he would've, the idiot, and back then he told himself it was because it'd be easier to transport him if he went uninjured. Now, the truth was obvious.

Reassured by his adamance, Rowan reaches out to take the tub. While keeping a close eye on Saeran's face to check for any signs that he might change his mind, he fails to notice how close their hands get, accidentally brushing their fingers together as he grabs it. The touch is minimal, lasting under a second, but it still startles them both. The brunette gasps, nearly dropping the ice cream as Saeran pulls back.

For a moment they're both silent, staring at each other with flushed cheeks and unreadable expressions. Saeran knows why he reacted that way, but… what about the other man? Was he afraid of him? He didn't look frightened, only embarrassed and a bit flustered. Though there was no reason for him to be flustered, right? Maybe he was just touch-repulsed. They had a lot in common, after all. It was obvious the party coordinator's mind was spiraling just as much as his, the panic in his eyes blindingly obvious.

Trying his best not to overthink and to diffuse the situation, Saeran grumbles and snatches up the spoon, getting another scoop and nudging it against the boy's lips. It smudges against his nose, making him blink in surprise. His fingers coming up to up to wipe away the small bit, he laughs, some of his nerves obviously soothed. Good, Saeran thinks; he can barely handle his own emotions, let alone someone else's.

Holding the spoon out like a threat, he stares blankly at him. "Take it. I'm not feeding you. And sit over here so you don't drop it; that's the last thing we need." He curls his legs in, giving the taller man more room.

The brunette sits on the edge of the bed and takes the spoon happily, fixing his attention on the ice cream as he… purposefully seeks out the chocolate chips, to the point where his spoonful is more chocolate than ice cream. Weird, but Saeran doesn't argue.

Some part of him finds it cute, and he shakes his head, desperately trying to swat the thought away. He had hoped that the feelings would fade, but they were blossoming into something far more dreadful with every visit. That wasn't Rowan's fault; it was his own for not keeping himself under control.

These feelings would have to die with him, he concludes, blinking rapidly to bring himself back. When those blue eyes turn upwards to glance at him, he knows he's been caught getting lost in his mind. Bracing himself for the obvious question, he accepts the tub pushed back to him, tensing when the other man speaks up just as he gets a mouthful.

"What's buggin' you?" Rowan asks, his brows furrowed with concern. Taking his time to let the ice cream melt in his mouth, Saeran answers with a shrug. Remembering his earlier attempt to be more open, he sighs, nudging around a chocolate chip as he tries to think of a good way to put his thoughts into words without exposing his feelings.

"...Is it okay for me to feel things?" It's a clumsy question, and he mentally kicks himself for a multitude of reasons: for how stupid he sounds, for burdening the other man when he'd already been through so much because of him, for the way he's just now noticed his hands shaking. But none of this seems to bother Rowan, who smiles gently and nods.

"It is. I promise." Saeran jumps when Rowan's hand seeks out his, giving it a light, comforting squeeze. He seems oblivious to his own actions, getting lost in thoughts of his own. "It feels… wrong, right? Like anything that isn't terrible isn't for you, and that you're meant to be miserable in silence. It's lonely."

The hand resting on his presses down slightly, and despite the conflicting feelings whirling in his mind, Saeran moves his hand, entwining their pinkies together. He isn't sure what feelings the other man is hiding, but it makes some part of his heart hurt knowing that he's suffering too.

"I've felt lonely a lot," He continues, staring out the window with a solemn expression. It's quiet for a while, Rowan staring at the clouds and Saeran staring at him. Finally, a soft smile tugs at the brunette's lips, and he turns his attention back to him. "I won't let you be lonely too. Not anymore. Okay?"

Saeran's face feels warmer, but he doesn't let himself turn away, fixing his eyes on one of the freckles dotting the other man's cheeks as he hums an acknowledgement and squeezes his hand. Only now does Rowan notice the way their pinkies are curled around each other, but before he can pull back, Saeran tightens his grip. Not enough to trap him, but enough to get across his message. He can't bring himself to say it out loud, but all he wants is for the other man to stay.

Out of the corner of his eye, Rowan's eyes are swimming with something he doesn't know how to define. It's sweet, warm, making him feel melted on the inside despite his uncertain exterior. As much as he hates being stared at, he isn't sure he wants the other man to look away. The ice cream was next to them, slowly melting in its container; at any point Rowan could remember and turn his attention away.

As if reading his mind, he doesn't. Instead he curls his knees up to his chest, gazing at him with all the affection in the world. It makes Saeran's mind wander, but for once, the thoughts are welcome. Being cared about like this… it makes him feel like maybe he isn't destined to die alone and unloved as he feared.

"Thank you," his visitor says, voice barely above a whisper. "I'll stay right here with you, as long as you'll have me."

"I will," Saeran manages. "You'll come around regardless."

"But do you mind?"

"...No." The corners of his lips twitch up into a weak smile. It's obvious he's unused to the expression, but he isn't thinking about how he might look strange. Around Rowan, his heart feels lighter.

You‘re an angel. You always are, and this time was no different. A hand comes to rest on his shoulder, and despite its gentleness, Saeran still jumps. You’re there as usual, staring at him with wide, worried eyes. A black cat plushie is clutched tight against your chest with your free arm, its beady eyes reflecting his worn-down expression. “Saeran?” You start, voice just loud enough for him to hear, “I was calling you, but you didn’t answer. Do you want to take a break?”

The answer is obvious, but you always offer him a choice. He nods, and you carefully take the sleeve of his hoodie in your hand, guiding him over to a free bench. Saeran accepts the help wordlessly, practically melting into the wooden seat. Joining him, you stare out at the sky, not speaking. He doesn’t either, silently thankful for your understanding. Even if he had something to say, he wasn’t sure his body would cooperate. Every part of him felt so tired.

It wasn’t surprising, really. He was still recovering both mentally and physically, and moving around the fairgrounds had slowly worked up an ache in his muscles, burning down to the bone. You both hadn’t done much, admittedly. He was too nervous to try the rollercoasters for today, and you both agreed the haunted house was not a good idea. You’d been considerate of him the whole time, mainly choosing booths or rides where you had to sit, but the lines were still soul-crushingly long.

The biggest break he’d had was on the ferris wheel. At first, the inability to leave the basket and the sheer height made his heart race, and you had to take his hand to soothe him. But once he pieced together that he was safe, he wouldn’t get hurt, he was able to relax and enjoy the view. It was almost dreamlike, the way the red-purple warmth of the sunset lit up your face. It had been hard for Saeran to look away, but when you turned your attention from the sky to check on him, he had to. He had been too embarrassed to admit he was admiring you instead.

Now, Saeran watches children busily run up and down the slowly clearing paths, chased after by amused but stressed parents. The fireworks show would be starting soon, you had informed him earlier. He wasn’t too sure about the event; it would be loud, and crowded, and new, just like the rest of the fair had been. All overwhelming sensations for him, but the spark of excitement in your eyes when you spoke about the show made him want to try it. If only for your sake.

He glances over at you, watching you brush your fingers over the short whiskers of the cat plush, waiting for him to give a sign that he was ready to move again. You seem happy, a content smile on your face as you admire the prize. When he’d noticed you adoringly eyeing the plush hung up on the display rack, he knew he’d have to cave and get it for you. The encounter with the the booth attendant had been uncomfortable, having approached them without you, and it took six tries. Seeing you now, it all felt worth it.

A small hum is all he offers you, but you get the cue all the same. “Come on,” you say as you bounce to your feet, offering Saeran your outstretched hand. Even after all this time, you always ask, never simply grabbing ahold of him. He didn’t deserve your kindness, he thought, but he accepted it anyways. You seemed happy trying to make him happy. Silently he takes your hand, allowing you to help him up.

Waiting until he gives you a nod, you set off, the balloon tied securely around your wrist bobbing with each step. Feeling more relaxed than before, Saeran takes a moment to enjoy the atmosphere. It was peaceful, the bright neon lights of the fair reflecting on the river barely visible through the treeline. He’s almost too distracted observing the way the colors distort and ripple on the water to notice the small form rushing past, but the excited squeal the child lets out sends him stumbling back into you, his grip on your hand tightening in a brief moment of fear.

Oblivious parents hurriedly walk behind, leaving Saeran clinging to you, trying to steady his breathing. Your soothing whispers don’t quite sound like words, but your voice still manages to bring him back down, the tension in his shoulders releasing with a heavy sigh. “Sorry... dumb kid. I’m okay now,” he mutters, loosening his vice grip on your hand. You nod in understanding, but still don’t continue your walk, so he takes initiative, leading you down the path and around a corner.

Suddenly, there’s a loud whistle and a startling pop, a burst of orange and pink illuminating your face as you both whirl to face the sound. Saeran jolts and freezes, moving a bit slower, and by the time he’s turned the source of the noise is gone. He feels his heart pick up, but your face doesn’t share his fearful expression. Oh... was this was it was supposed to be?

Watching the horizon, it isn’t long before a single streak of white shoots up into the sky, exploding into a soft golden color. Right. Fireworks. As soon as he rationalizes the source of the sound and determines it to be safe — not coming towards you, not a weapon, a good and harmless distance away, all the way across the river — he turns back to you with a still slightly apprehensive look, tilting his head curiously.

Your eyes are filled with wonder, tracking another rocket as more shoot up into the air, widening ever so slightly as it erupts into white and blue. The excitement was almost radiating off of you, and it doesn’t leave your eyes when you catch his uncertain gaze.

“It’s alright,” you soothe, “just watch.” Clutching the plush close to you, you shift to tug the oversized sleeve of his hoodie up, just enough to entwine your fingers with his. You didn’t grip much, letting him make that decision on his own, squeezing your hand in silent thanks.

It was always overwhelming, going out and experiencing these things for the first time that everyone else around him was so accustomed to. The whole time he’d felt like a fumbling mess, never able to bring his voice above a mutter, too embarrassed by the signs that shone through that showed he was new to everything happening. This felt no different, and all the more imposing.

He’d heard about fireworks before, but never bothered to look into them. Now, though, seeing the vibrant display, he couldn’t help but be silently breathtaken, his lips slightly parted in awe. Did he have the same dumb expression as the small children? Probably, his brain says. If he did, you wouldn’t mind. You never had, even when he thought you should, when you had all the reason to shoot him a judging look like the ones he’d picked up before. But you never looked at him in any way but loving. You were always safe and familiar when everything else was new and jarring.

Relaxing slightly, he can’t help the small smile that tugs at his lips. He knows you’re watching him now, feeling your perpetually adoring gaze on him. This isn’t unusual; you always look at him with stars in your eyes when he’s able to unwind and enjoy the moment despite his reservations. You think he doesn’t notice, but he does every time, and it makes his heart a bit warmer. The fear that he’s not good enough, that he isn’t progressing enough, always lingers at the back of his mind, so he’s happy he can make you proud like this.

Deciding to tease you, Saeran turns his head back to face you. “Enjoying the view?” He asks stoically, and your face noticeably heats up. In some desperate attempt to get out of the situation, you smile and nod frantically.

“Y-Yep! They sure are... bright.” You noticeably wince at the clumsiness of your words, attempting to redirect the conversation. “Are you? You seem happy. Um, just by seeing you now, I mean.”

Deciding to spare you, he hums happily, turning back to watch the show, noting the way the colors reflect in the water, blooming on the surface before the sparks sizzle and fade out. “Yeah. It’s a bit noisy, but otherwise it’s... alright.”

There was so much he had to thank you for: for always being by his side, for your unending patience with him, for teaching him how to love and feel loved again. “Thanks for bringing me,” he says instead, but the soft look he gives you out of the corner of his eye shows everything he can’t bring himself to communicate in words.

Pressing yourself to his side, moving slowly to give him a chance to stop you, you lean your head against his shoulder. “Thank you for letting me bring you,” you respond. It’s a hidden message just like his; he can tell by the way your voice wavers with emotion. Thanking him for trusting you despite all he’d been through, and for not closing himself off from you.