#l.kh

w/ l.kh

g/ mutual pining

w.count/ 942

a.n/ [romantics era team]: we hope it is up to your expectations! we will add ‘keep reading’ cut later.

t.w/ none, a few curses but that’s it

You never know what to expect from Keonhee. He keeps you on your toes every day. Today is not an exception. You truly wonder what is running on his mind when a series of texts late at night or early in the morning, depending on who’s talking, almost vibrates your phone off the bed.

[keon hee-hee 01:09]

hey you up?

answer me

hello

youre not dead right?

aww cmon!

lets go!

im bored!

im outside your door

‘Outside your door,’ he said? You kick off the blanket, sock feet sliding around the smooth flooring as you rush past the living room. The obnoxious knocking on your door reaches your ear, “Hurry up!” If he wakes up the entire floor, you’re going to die of embarrassment. Most of the residents are the elderly and you don’t want a talking from them, no matter how gentle, some of them gruff, they are.

You open the slightly creaky brown metal door, Keonhee flinches mid-knock. Before he could utter another word, you pull him inside by his sleeve, hissing harshly, “Are you trying to wake up all the grams and gramps?” You pinch his arm. He yelps and rubs the abused area with a whine, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to.” A moment goes by and a burst of barely veiled laughter rumbles in his throat, he takes his time to actually look at you. “You’re so cute! Like a little bear!” He pats your head and you smack his hand. “Oww! Little bear is angry!” He is way too fond of you. “What do you want, Keonhee?”

A grin appears on his face. Heavens, he’s handsome, the way his lips slope upward and the way the bags under his eyes add so much character to his face. The boyish charm appears to taunt you whenever he decides to make you question your sanity. No, you definitely do not have feelings for Lee Keonhee. The reasonable part of your brain snides, you’re in denial. “Let’s go out!” Your heart hammers against your ribcage. He doesn’t mean what you think the phrase means, does he? Keonhee tilts his head, “The playground?” Ah, shit. Of course, it’s the playground. This is why you shouldn’t jump to conclusions, there’s a nasty emotion brewing in your chest. Hurt. You nod silently, blindly reaching for whatever jacket is hanging on the rack and slipping on the beat-up white sneakers. It’s no longer white, it’s just dirty.

He has that wistful smile on his face and he crouches down in the cramped entrance. You shuffle back a little, giving him some room for movement not wanting him to smack the small of his back against the sharp edge of the mail slot. Occasionally, he makes you wonder why he likes your small apartment so much. Small but a precious home, it’s all you can afford. “Stay still,” he reaches for your foot, no, your shoelace. The dirty strings loop around his fingers. You like Keonhee’s hands, they’re big and warm, his fingers delicately slender and long. You will never tell him that, he won’t live it down. “There!” A loop around his finger and a little pull, a perfect bow rest atop of your shoe. It’s always the left side.

Keonhee doesn’t judge people by their appearance. He doesn’t care if you are out in public with your green and red plaid pyjamas that makes you look like Paddington Bear and nor does he care that your windbreaker clashes horribly with said pyjamas. He has a habit of linking his arm with yours and whines when you let go. He would pout with a, “You’re so cold,” then proceed to annoy you with a barrage of cute acts until you relented and let him link his arm again. You hear his excited gasp and drags you into a jog, the swings are empty.

It truly has been a while since you sit in the swings. The chains suspending the seat left a sharp iron scent on your hands. You and Keonhee have to cross your legs and tuck it under the seat, Keonhee letting his legs spear into the air. Both of you are too tall for the children’s swings set. By routine you know, a convenience store sojourn will follow after the two of you get your fill of childhood nostalgia. Sound waves of words resonate into space. You could listen to Keonhee talks all day but at night, there’s mellowness and grittiness in the words he speaks. He glances at you, wondering if you’re listening and finding your attention fixed on him. You didn’t expect him to catch you in your infatuation.

There’s so much adoration in his eyes when he meets your gaze, sparkling like the city lights in the distance. You could feel the flip-flop of butterfly wings in your stomach, the way your heart constricts almost painfully and the words diminish from your tongue. Ah. You’re done for. Keonhee doesn’t say anything as he stands, arms winding around you loosely, pulling you off the creaky swings. He keeps you close yet willing to let you escape at the same time. Damn him for making you feel this way. Damn him for understanding that you might not be ready. Damn shoelace for always untying itself. You curl your hands on his sides, the fabric of his t-shirt bunching under your grips. The previously perfect tied ribbon resting atop of your shoe is untied again, mocking you for your feelings. You lean your forehead against his chest, he lets you hide, his hold tightening a touch and chin resting on the crown of your head.