#hoshi.fic

now, he's walking home after an almost fifteen-hour day and he wants nothing more than to get cozy and sleep for a solid ten hours. he's hungry, he's cold, his entire body aches, and for reasons unknown, he just... misses you. you: his roommate, his best friend, his other half. he hasn't seen you all day and he just knows that seeing you right now would make his immediate future so much better.

he shakes his head as he presents his keycard to the reader of the apartment building. what is he doing, thinking about you like that? you're best friends and he doesn't like you more than that; he can't.

but you want to, a little voice in the back of his head says.

he blocks it out, stepping into the warmth of the lobby and sighing audibly. he has more important things to think about and do than ruining the best relationship he's ever had in his life. it's not worth losing that all because of one little unwanted thought.

the elevator is unfathomably warmer, but it still doesn't even begin to penetrate the bitter cold that has seeped directly into his bone marrow. he aches all over, feet dragging down the carpeted hall towards your shared apartment's door. he's never been so relieved in his whole life as his key slips into the lock with no resistance, as the door opens effortlessly without a creak.

he stays silent, toeing out of his sneakers and replacing them with his house slippers. his keychain goes in the small dish in the entryway table and his backpack on the hook next to the door. home and routine, everything has a place: you have matching keychains that go next to each other in the dish, specified places for your items to slip right in next to each other, all even and perfect.

it's his favorite thing about coming home after a long day, seeing his shoes tucked into the rack next to yours, your bags paired together, keys discarded side by side.

he slips quietly into the living room, expecting darkness, but he's openly surprised when his expectation is subverted. netflix is idling on the tv screen, available shows cycling through on repeat, and there you are, not in bed, but on the couch, your back pressed firm against the back cushions. a tartan blanket is tucked over you and his eyes trail, falling on the cord, and he realized you pulled out the heated blanket he'd gotten you for christmas.

he tries (valiantly, he swears) and fails to fight the smile that pulls at the corners of his mouth, the warmth in his chest that fills him with a certain kind of joy. you'd expressed gratitude when you'd unwrapped the thing at christmas, but he hadn't seen you use it until now. it must be cozy because you don't often fall asleep on the couch like this unless you're really, truly comfortable.

it seems enticing.

and, mind still steeped in winter cold, he can't stop himself. glad he changed into sweatpants for dance classes in the evening, he moves with a practiced gentleness, moving to the couch and pulling back the blanket just enough to slide in next to you. the thing is toasty under his fingers and he knows this is exactly what he needs.

once he settles, knees knocking against your own, he realizes just how close you are. he's not completely clueless, but you're so near that your noses almost touch. it sends his heart into such a frenzy that he swears it's the reason you start stirring.

"soonyoung?" you ask quietly, eyes cracking open as you stretch your legs. "when did you get home?"

"just now," he replies just as softly. he can feel himself go all soft and gentle with you like this and he knows there's no coming back from that realization. "didn't mean to wake you up. sorry."

you shake your head as best you can and scoot in closer. "no big deal. i probably needed to get up and move to my bed for the night anyway."

he goes still and, after much deliberation, he slides his arm over your waist, tucking his hand between your body and the back cushion of the couch. you glance up at him groggily and he has to will himself calm.

"let's just stay here for a while," he says, tipping his head forward and resting his forehead against yours.

"are you okay?" you question. it's a simple ask, but it sends his heart reeling. "you're not usually this affectionate."

but for all your seemingly resistance to whatever is transpiring in this moment, you're not exactly rejecting it. and it's not like the two of you don't get physically affectionate ever; it's a norm in your relationship, it just feels different this time.

so soonyoung nods and lets out a little huff of a laugh. "yeah, i'm okay. it's just cold out tonight and i had to walk home from the station."

finally, finally your arm slips around him in reciprocation after his confession. it leaves little space between you that goes untouched and very little reservation in his mind that this is anything more than platonic.

he doesn't know what changed between this morning and ten mintues ago, but he's not complaining.

"i told you to not go today," you say softly as your eyes slide closed and you readjust, tucking yourself perfectly against his chest, your head fitting just right underneath his chin. "i told you."

"yeah, you did," soonyoung relents, smiling to himself. "i should have listened to you."

"you should always listen to me," you respond, voice muffled by his hoodie. he can feel the warmth of your breath through the thick fabric and it makes him want to smile even more. "it's okay though since you're here now."

he nods and lets a comforting, tranquil silence settle over the living room. he basks singularly in the weight of your body pressed against him and the warmth of the heated blanket tucked over the top of you two. paired with the freshly falling snow he can see through the window over the back of the couch, it is like the pair of you are the only two people left in the world.

"are you sure you're okay?"

"yeah, i'm fine. we can talk about it in the morning, promise. go back to sleep."

"m'kay. g'night, hosh."

"goodnight."

he knows he'll have to come clean in the morning, which scares him more than anything. but for now, it is just the two of you and the heated blanket and the snow beyond the window and things are okay. he has to believe they'll stay that way.