#fav bit

Kyungsoo swipes a finger over the eyebrows, knuckles pressing into forehead. This is the sky, he says quietly. He squeezes the nose bridge and Jongin takes a double take, sneezing. Giggling, he moves his fingers away, trailing them across the canvas of his cheek. And then he pulls him in for another kiss. Where lips mesh, this is my oxygen, he says.

(Kyungsoo does not say it out loud, but Jongin smells like summer and lemons with a lingering smell at the edges that reminds Kyungsoo of the past, of his childhood—the nights he stayed up late to talk to his teddy bear—and memories as a child. But most of all, Kyungsoo thinks with faint grin, Jongin smells like home.)

On their way to sleep, Kyungsoo molds the melodic lines, the a-flat, the b-sharp-minor, the Jongin look your hands are dancing, the Jongin I like you a lot; Jongin defines the meter, the four-four, the four-three, the hyung are you happy, the hyung fossilize me in your time.