Happiness. hap·pi·ness. noun.
@loveurn - Andrwon, a year after their wedding.
Happiness.
It probably had a definition in the dictionary. Something simple like feeling content with life, the desire to smile. The state of being happy. Feeling well with one self, with a life that did not make you feel the opposite of contentment. Andrei wasn’t so sure it could ever be caged into such simple ways. Once upon a time, he might have agreed that it was that easy to define something that so many wished to attain and never lose.
It wasn’t, though. Easy, that was. It also was personified. It was him and he wasn't simple at all. Some days, he was curled up against him, warm to the point of creating a damp spot against Andrei’s skin. A spot that Andrei refused to push away, anyways.
Because it was his to keep. The discomfort, the heat. All Andrei’s.
Some days, he was a flurry of steps that moved around the house like he didn’t know how to stop and breathe. It agitated Andrei and also made him hold back his laughter because otherwise he would turn around to look at him and possibly try to steal the mirth from his lips.
Although, that was never such a bad thing either. Andrei sometimes did want the mirth to be taken right from his mouth. Possibly with another mouth on his. There were times, though, where he was quiet. Humming as he moved about. Mornings were the times where he remained the most peaceful. As if the beginning of a day was always supposed to be solemn and Andrei had learned to appreciate those moments the most.
Like now.
Andrei was content. He was happy. His hands under his chin, rested on open palms as he listened and watched. Andrei had never thought himself a people watcher, but he could watch him until the end of the world all but passed them by. There was nothing different about the sight of him in the kitchen, languid movements that went from one cupboard to another. Brewing the best coffee Andrei had ever tasted. Would probably ever taste. While also making the kind of breakfast that no one would dare to call edible, but Andrei would dare them to say it outloud.
If they did, he’d be done for because he’d kept it a secret. No one could be perfect at everything..right? It wasn’t his fault that making sure something as simple as eggs did not burn seemed to be beyond what he was made for. Andrei could forgive him anything though. That was easy to do. As easy as watching him fluster up as the first sizzling of the pan began and Andrei just knew before he smelled them burn that this breakfast would be no different than the others.
Had routinely bad meals ever been so eagerly awaited before?
Most likely not.
Andrei was impatient for them though. Hence why he was not getting up to help. That, and the first and last time he’d tried to step in, he’d been burned by a glare and a silence that lasted well beyond what could be considered tolerable. Andrei could withstand a lot of things. Burned eggs. Stress. Work overload. But to live in the silence of him? The heavens keep him from that. Andrei could not survive it. He did not survive it. He would not. He refused.
“Babe,”
“Hm?”
Andrei spoke without knowing why he did, automatically. Because his voice was like a switch. He spoke and Andrei perked to attention. His body was a lighthouse. He moved and Andrei followed like a sailor lost at sea. His eyes followed until they were surrounded by nothing but his face. As if Andrei had ordered the vision of him in the highest possible definition.
Red cheeks. Flour on the tip of the nose (pancakes might have been attempted this morning, something slightly different). Eyebrows furrowed (clear sign of frustration).
“You love me right?”
His lips made the words and Andrei understood them. Crystal clear, he did. He also knew better than to answer with words of his own. Andrei much preferred what was expected of him. He moved with the ease of a man who’d done this a hundred times, to dust his nose. Hold his face, lean over the counter and kiss his pout.
“Hyungwon.”
He opened the eyes that blinked shut when Andrei kissed him.
“I’ll never not love you.”
Andrei waited. One second. Two. Three. He was a patient man. He waited and watched as the red deepened, the furrows disappeared, and the pout turned into slightly parted lips that seemed to not know if they would be stretched around a smile. Or.
Oh. This morning, they opened around breathy laughter.
Andrei leaned in and pressed their foreheads together.
“Merry Christmas, my love.” He added, for good measure. To make him brighter.
The brighter the better, you see.
“You’re so corny.”
He sounded like it was a complaint, yet held onto Andrei’s hands and turned his face to press a kiss to each of his palms. Andrei turned red himself. Red from pleasure and from that other thing. The topic he’d contemplated today. Happiness.
“How many more burned breakfasts can you stomach?”
He asked, mumbling more so. Lips still buried against his hand.
“As many as you’ll give me.”
He rolled his eyes, but he looked pleased. He also moved back, still holding on to Andrei’s hands as he tugged. This was different. The script was changing a bit this morning. Andrei still followed, that was all he could ever do. Just go where he was taken. He knew he’d never want to be anywhere else.
“You can help today,” He explained as he guided him to the stove, “Let’s at least make our first christmas breakfast as a married couple edible.”
One might say that a year, twelve months, 365 days could not have been spent without an ounce of unhappiness. But Andrei could brag that he had, indeed, lived with his happiness for longer than a year. He would continue to keep him this close.
So the definition of happiness. It was never supposed to sound like this, most likely. But no one could ever hold it as Andrei was right now. His arm slid around his waist as they stood, together, and made themselves something more edible for a first of other firsts that would follow.
This was Andrei’s definition.
His happiness. His husband. Hyungwon.
