#foxfaces

You are still not used to it.

The weight of his arm that rests on your waist, the breath that tickles your nape and the warmth that radiates off his body. It’s still all so foreign, such an alien feeling, but it also calls to you like a place called home. You are aware it is only a question of time before this is something you can no longer fall asleep without - maybe even live without. But right now, it is still all too new.

As if he can sense your inner monologue, his grip tightens on your, pulling your closer until you are flush against his chest and you feel his lips make contact with your shoulder blade as he places a wet butterfly kiss there. “Still awake?”

His voice is nothing more but a murmur, soft and hazy with sleep. It sends the butterflies that live in your stomach into a frenzy as it sounds out so close to your ear. You are very much aware that it is something only you can hear. There is no one else that gets to have his with slumber drunk voice whisper in their ear, there is no one else that gets to feel his body wrapped around theirs. The thought makes your heart skip a beat.

“Mhm, can’t fall asleep.”

You turn around to face him, only to see his lashes flutter over the top of his cheekbones, barely visible in the dim moonlight. His lips are pouted, and slightly parted as he exhales another breath, clearly only on the edge of being awake himself. You cannot help yourself but reach upwards, to stretch your chin forward and put your lips on his for just a split second. Out of reflex the corners of his mouth lifted up, forming a small smile as his arms slipped from your waist for his hand to come to rest on your shoulder blade and pull him closer to you. “Try to sleep, baby.”

He rolled over on his back, taking you with him, his arm never leaving your shoulder so could make sure you are resting on his chest. Only then his hand drops further down to the small of your back, absentmindedly rubbing small circles that draw a sigh from your lips. “Jeongguk?”

“Hm?”

“Erm, babe? What’s your shoe size again?”

Seokjins voice sounds out of the living room where he is perched on the cream colored couch, a laptop sitting on his thighs. Your back is turned towards him as you stand in the kitchen, focus in front of you as you cut up some fresh fruit. “You don’t know? Also, why do you need to know?”

He doesn’t respond right away, a silence lingering in the air that is only disturbed by the noise of your knife meeting the cutting board as you half some strawberries, occasionally popping one in your mouth.

“Not important. Just tell me, please.”

You only send him a quick glance over your shoulder, curious as to what he is up to before you turn back, this time attacking a mango as slice of the sides and start cutting the soft flesh into cubes, throwing them in a big bowl afterwards. “I am not telling you until you say what you are doing.”

You can hear him stand up and trot over, and before you know it, you can feel him behind you, arms wrapped around your waist and chin resting on your shoulder. Out of instinct you take one of the mango cubes and hold it up against his lips. He quickly eats it and presses a kiss onto your cheeks before turning to the side and getting himself a glass of water.

“I’m not doing anything,” Seokjin mumbles. He leans on the counter, standing right next to you, and watches you work, but as you don’t reply right away he steals one of the strawberries and goes back into the living room, curling up on the couch again.

“Then why do you need to know my shoe size?”

“It’s nothing, really,” he responds but you can tell there is some hesitation in his voice. “I was just… thinking about you.”

“About my feet?” You giggle, having finished cutting up all the fruit. You take the bowl along with two toothpicks over to him, plopping down next to him on the couch.

He immediately turns away from you, as if trying to shield the page open on his laptop from you viewing it, closing the window as well, but it’s already too late. You saw the familiar logo of the online shop and the huge section of shoes he was browsing and it makes you giggle. “Are you trying to buy me a new pair of shoes?”

“No…” You fixate him with a stern glance as he shifts his eyes before his lips split into a sheepish grin. “Okay, yes, fine. I wanted to buy you a pair of shoes like the one you were talking about yesterday as a surprise.”

“Then why did you ask for my shoe size? Way to make it obvious.”

He lets out a frustrated whine, puffing out his cheeks. “Well, I didn’t know which size to order!”

“So you ask me? You could have just secretly checked the shoes I own.”

Sending you a wide eyes look, he just stays silent before tugging at his hair and falling forward to hide his face as you shake with laughter. “I am an idiot, aren’t I?”

And often, the moon moves further on the horizon unnoticed, so long until it is too late to go back home, to sneak back into your own four walls without waking sleeping parents, or just too late to attempt the long drives, sometimes it even gets planned and assigned drivers indulge in the chilled beers and nicked liquor because until everyone is settled and ready to go when the sun rises, intoxication has long left their system. 

The backseats of cars and open spaces of pickup trucks get turned into makeshift beds, little nests made out of old blankets that worried mothers and wise grandparents disposed in the trunks for adventures exactly like these, and it creates a cozy feeling that with the buzzing summer air is incredibly dreamlike, whimsical. 

It’s even more so when you happen to wake up, torn out of dreams by the cold breeze or some distant noise, but, the enchanting air still not quite feeling like reality. There is a knot in your neck, a slight ache in your back that comes from curling up on the unforgiving surface of the box, but it’s a small price to pay when you are still young enough to let all tensions leave your body with some stretches when the morning comes. 

But tonight there is a weight on your waist, it’s unfamiliar but not uncomfortable and it takes a few moments for you to come to your senses before your cheeks, luckily hidden in the dark, flush a deep red. You curled up against Jeongguk in your sleep and, like the most natural thing, has he pressed you against his chest, arms wound tightly around you. 

It’s an awkward position, that does nothing to calm your now beating heart, the vicinity too close for just friends. Yet, it feels nice, and honestly, you do not want to leave his arms and risk waking him up. But your rationality has already been startled back to consciousness, and you carefully try to pray open his embrace, yet, you freeze when you feel him shift under you. 

“Wait, don’t pull away… Not yet.” His voice sounds sheepish, whiny, roughened with sleep, and instinctively he tightens his muscles, pulling you flush against him. He clearly is still delirious, slumber keeping his eyes closed, lashes fluttering against cheekbones. You realize, in the soft moonshine, vulnerable like this, he looks so much younger yet ageless all the like - and oh so beautiful, eternally ethereal. 

“Shh, go back to sleep, Guk.” 

“Only if you promise to cuddle.” He mumbles against your hair, the tone reminding you of a toddler that got too little sleep and demands for his favorite stuffed teddy bear. And trapped against his tall frame and bulging muscles, you do feel little more than a toy. “I like cuddling. And you are soft.” 

You giggle that, mindful of keeping your voice down as to not wake anyone else. 

“Don’t laugh. Promise.” He sounds so adorably drowsy, you cannot help but assure him, vowing to settle in his hold. 

“How about this one?” You giggle, hand gliding over the expensive fabric of the dress, the color a delicate cream with a low cut back, which you are currently fawning over as you take it from the rack and hold it against your body. “Would it look good on me?”

You look so happy, it’s clearly visible in the way glee is glistening in your eyes, as if your huge smile wasn’t obvious enough. You look down again, clearly imagining yourself in the dress, but Jimin simply takes it out of your hand with a noise of disapproval. “Not your color, it makes you look dead.”

Poking out your tongue at him, you just laugh again. It’s one of Jimins favorite sounds in the whole world, but today, it grates on his nerves - mostly because he knows, you are not laughing because of him, you happiness is not caused by him, and if your suspicion comes true, it never will be again. So today, he cannot force that smile to stay on his face and fawn with you like the best friend he is supposed to be. He turns away from you and browses the dresses in front of him. “This would look good on you.”

You step next to him to see what he is looking at, in your flats nearly a whole head smaller than him - the perfect height to rest your head on his shoulder whenever you are tired, but no, that is an image he can no longer dream about, it is not his place to do so. It hasn’t been for a long time, he is not the man that gets to hold your hand, to hold you close at night and to feel your lips on his. So, here he is, helping you choose a dress for your fancy dinner event - the one you are so sure your boyfriend is finally going to propose during.

“Don’t you think it would look nice?” He asks, eyes still on you, rather than the altrosa dress with lace along the front in which he is sure you would look like you stepped right out of a fairytale.

“But it’s piiiink.” You whine, as you pout and shake your head. Jimin has to bite his tongue to keep himself from blurting out how cute you look. “And old fashioned. Donghae would hate it, he doesn’t like stuff like that.”

“Do you have to alter his appearance to his liking?” Jimin scoffs, it’s ridiculous, really. Is he now going to highlight all of your boyfriends bad traits in order to make you see how much better he himself would be for you? Why can’t he control himself?

“Don’t be ridiculous, of course I don’t. I just want to look perfect for him tonight, you know? I want tonight to be perfect, and look beautiful in all the pictures so that when I look back on that night, I get butterflies all over again.”

“How about this one, then?” It’s a cheap tactic, redirecting your attention somewhere else so you do not see the sour look on his face, the clenched jaw and ice in his gaze. But it is working as you immediately let out a muffled scream and run over to the floor length gown, running your hands all over it.

“I need to try this on! Oh my god, Jimin, it is perfect!”

“It looks good on you.” It’s the understatement of the year, because truly, you look nothing short of perfect, the way it hugs your body and glides over the floor, as if it were made just for you. And he hates it, he wants to say how much he hates it, how he does not like it on you simply because you are not wearing it for him, but for another man when he has been by your side all those years, when he has been the one to fall for you so deeply, while you only ever had eyes for someone else. And he hates how you look so good in fancy gowns that he can easily picture you in a wedding dress.