#one-shots.

it started with one or two on your legs or your arms – splotchy and distorted, so any excuse you came up with sounded plausible. with no real shape to identify, it was hard to say you were lying. maybe you’d just gotten clumsier, maybe your head was just somewhere else lately, maybe it’s all just a coincidence. but, then they became more frequent and bigger in size, greater in numbers. you always made sure to pull your sleeves down to your hands and wear long pants, but sometimes you’d pull those sleeves down too late – sometimes you’d reach to get something off a high shelf, and he’d see a bruise on your hip, your rib, your stomach.the excuses kept coming as quickly as his questions. so did the bruises.the idea to give up never crossed his mind, but eventually he didn’t have a choice – you stopped asking to hang out, replying to his requests to see each other, even started denying his calls and avoiding all of your favorite places to sit and talk for a while. he never stopped trying, but you never replied.fear always comes to a head, though.it had to be two in the morning when he heard the first knock on his door – he almost disregarded it, rolled over and went back to sleep, but then another came shortly after. and, then another, more frantic this time. finally, when the fourth came, he was halfway to the door with a tired ‘ coming, coming, ’ slipping past a yawn.and, there you were, looking more terrified than he’s ever seen another person –wide eyes, wet cheeks, trembling lips and shaky hands. you don’t even speak right away, you just look at him with that fear coloring your eyes, and then surge forward like he’s the very last shred of sanity keeping your feet on the ground.❝ are you okay? ❞ are the first  words to come out of his mouth, even though he knows the answer. ❝ what happened? ❞❝ he wouldn’t stop – he wouldn’t stop screaming and throwing things and i begged him to stop – ❞your words come out rushed, like you couldn’t get them off your tongue fast enough, and your panicked breaths only  served to chop the words even  further. namjoon knows you need to say it, to admit it to him, so all he can do is run his fingertips up and down your spine and coax you into assurance.❝ Breathe, ❞ he says, continuing to touch you like he can soothe the panic right out of your skin. ❝ breathe for me. ❞so, you try and level your breathing, trembling in his hold like the very  last leaf on the branch in the middle of winter. you shake and cry and he lets you, because his firm hold is there to keep you from breaking entirely. he knows – he knows you need to shake and cry and break just a little, because it’ll make putting yourself back together again so much easier.when you finally seem to come down from the panic the night had put you in, you try again: ❝ i know... i know you know that  he’s been hitting me. ❞for now, he remains silent. you need to tell him, to get it off your chest – he’s patient, like he always is.❝ and, i guess i thought i could manage it or maybe i was trying to pretend it’d get better, but then... then, he wouldn’t stop and it just got worse and worse. i didn’t know what to do anymore, because anytime i’d even mention breaking up – ❞ a sharp breath cuts off your words, but you continue as soon as your heart steadies. ❝ anytime i’d tell him i’m going to leave, he’d threaten me or himself. i didn’t know what to do, because i felt like if i did leave, he’d just come after me anyway. or he’d hurt himself somehow and i’d blame myself, because i... because some part of me loved him at some point, and i don’t think i could live with that on my conscience. ❞❝ so, what finally made you leave this time? ❞ namjoon’s voice is quiet as he asks, gentle.❝ i thought he was going to kill me, ❞ you admit, your voice shuddering. ❝ he looked at me like i was nothing and it was like he didn’t even hear me. he  just kept throwing things and screaming at me, and then he started threatening me. i’ve never seen someone look so hateful before. ❞namjoon then decides to guide you inside, closing the door and locking the rest  of the world away from looking at you, touching you, hurting you. the way your shoulders relax at the overwhelming smell of him doesn’t go unnoticed, and as he settles you down on the couch and kneels down in front of you, he can only hope you keeps making you feel that safe.❝ he can’t hurt you anymore, okay? ❞ and, he says it with such assurance, that you can’t help but believe  him. ❝ it hurts to see you cry. even when you cry over sad movies or music that really moves you, it hurts. you are the last person that should be sad or hurting like this. ❞❝ how do you know? that he’s not going to hurt me anymore, i mean. ❞❝ because, you’re going to stay  with me and we’re going to figure things out. i know what i’d like to do about it, but i’m not going to be the kind of man that charges out of here and says i’m going to beat the shit out of him. i want you to figure out what you want to do about this, and we’ll do it together. for now, you’re safe here and i’m not going to let anything happen to you. ❞steadily, he leans in to press his forehead to yours and give you one of those soft smiles of his – the kind that dimples his cheeks and reaches his eyes with that soft glow. something about it makes you feel safe just then, like you never noticed how gentle it makes the rest of the world look, and you melt into it.❝ you’re what matters most to me, you know that, right? nothing can touch you when you’re with me. and, i’m not going anywhere. ❞

contrary to popular belief, yoongi’s hands are always warm. at least, they are to you -- but, then, your opinion is incredibly biased and entirely refutable, because you are, in fact, always cold. it didn’t matter if you were sat in the sun and basking in the warm rays, there was always a constant chill settled at the tips of your fingers and your toes, one that oftentimes made its way through the rest of your body and painted you in goosebumps and little shivers. yoongi could create endless trails of that sunshine warmth with just the tips of his fingers, though, as he outlines shapes and letters on the expanse of your stomach, and cradles you in it against his body. he could even pepper the sun’s kisses against your temple and your cheek and let it seep into your mouth if he so pleased, and you always wished he did ( and, he did -- he always did ). and, despite what everyone says, you find that yoongi is just fine at showing affection in his own way -- it wasn’t always in the conventional ways, and he didn’t always know how to say it, but it came in the little touches and lopsided kisses and every time he felt the need to lace your fingers together for no reason other than simply that: he just felt like it. maybe that was why you came to enjoy the winter months and the cold weather like you were right then, especially the quiet days inbetween like this one, where you could just lay in bed with him and bask in his warmth. even with the permanent chill in your body, you stopped wearing much else but one of his t-shirts and your underwear to bed, so he had better access to your bare skin. his fingers trail up your side light enough to tickle you, but hard enough that you don’t squirm away, tracing the dip under your ribs and tracing under the fabric of the shirt that he’d bunched up around your chest. his hands have mapped out every curve of your body a million times, but he never seemed to tire of it -- even when he couldn’t see it, and the three blankets he’d grown accustomed to you having on your bed are in the way. he hums in contentment, and you feel it vibrate in his chest from where you’re tucked in close against him, even his sounds warming you up from the inside out. ❝ you’re so warm, ❞ you sigh, breaking the silence that had only been broken up by the sound of shifting sheets and his breathing mingling with yours until then. ❝ you say that every time we’re together. ❞ there was no annoyance in his voice, no shortness, instead being lilted by the soft smile on his lips that always comes with the sound of your voice or the feeling of you against him. ❝ well, i’ll stop saying it when you stop being warm. ❞ yoongi chuckles at that, finally wrapping his arm around you completely, and rolling your body in closer against his. a soft kiss is pressed to the crown of your head right after, his lips lingering as if to syphon his warmth into you from the top of your head to your feet. you smile, eyes fluttering closed, your feet toying with his as if his attempt to warm you has worked -- like you feel it tingle in your toes. and, it is against your skin that he says: ❝ i’ll try not to stop. ❞ your smile gets softer within the silence that settles after his words. that is, until he continues. ❝ someone has to keep you from dying of hypothermia. ❞ ❝ yoongi! ❞ the laughter that falls from his lips is another spot of sunshine that warms you up further, though, so you don’t complain. it washes over you, coats you in his warmth, and when he tucks his head into your neck to muffle his giggles and presses you against him until you can feel the shape of his ribs and the tremble of his laughter, you almost don’t remember how it even feels to be cold.

❝ you are singlehandedly the most annoying man on this planet, and you still manage to be cute about it. ❞your voice is thick with sleep, and you groan when he throws an arm around your waist and drags you into his side, but despite your grumpiness you never fight him. instead, you stay lax, like you might just fall asleep again at any moment, and he coaxes you further into his embrace with kisses laid into your hair and over your cheek.he’s being soft, gentle, but you have never been a morning person and you think maybe you mind being woken up just a little.❝ sorry, sorry, ❞ he apologizes, but you can hear the way his voice is lilted with the smile laden on his lips. ❝ i just missed you. we’re gonna be busy for the next couple of days and i kept thinking about you and how i probably wouldn’t be able to do this with you for a while, so… ❞a hum thrums in your chest in understanding, and your mood fades to match the jelly-state of your body, melting even more against him when he hums right back.❝ mm, what time is it, though? ❞when he hesitates to answer, you pick your head up to glance at him, that same dim glow of your night light only allowing you to see the faint shape of one eye and the curve of his cheekbone, dipping down towards his lips.❝ gguk? ❞❝ …four a.m. ❞he doesn’t need to be able to see your face to know your jaw goes slack, because immediately afterward you’re shoving at his shoulder in disbelief with a quiet exclamation of ‘ jeon jungkook! ’❝ you come to my room and wake me up at four a.m. to cuddle? ❞but, you can’t be mad when you get his soft giggle in response, and he stores it away in the curve of your throat. you feel his joviality tickle your skin and it soaks over you like you’re basking in the sunshine way before dawn has even broken yet.❝ i just missed you. ❞deciding not to argue ( even when you hear the animated pout in his words, just to get under your skin ), you decide to just enjoy the closeness you have for a little while. maybe it wasn’t the ideal way for him to show you he missed you, but the sentiment still makes you wiggle your toes and squirm a little closer to him. and, for a while you both just lay there, and you feel the way his body slowly grows as lax as yours – the jokes and goofiness of his earlier actions seem to melt away the longer he lays beside you and the heaviness of the night settles in.as your eyes further adjust to the little bit of light you’re allowed, you notice the way his hair has started to curl a little more lately and how it lays against his face. you notice the shadows that fall across his nose from his lashes and how they flutter every time he starts to close his eyes. you notice the soft shape of his cupids bow highlighted in that soft yellow of the bulb and that way he always parts his lip to breathe soft and slow right before he starts to drift off.maybe you were missing him, too. maybe you don’t mind the impromptu visit afterall.❝ can i kiss you? ❞ your voice is soft when you ask it, like the quiet of the moment is effecting every inch of you. his hum in response matches your volume and the half of his smile that you can see matches your tone.and, so you do. the kiss is lazy, adoring, and for a short moment you forget everything outside of the little bubble the two of you have created. you forget everything but him and the weight of his arm over your waist and the gentle exhale he breathes against you through his nose. it isn’t until you come back down and separate from him that you become aware of the sheets against your skin and the feeling of the mattress underneath your side, and the soft glow of the night light stretching over his features again.yes, you certainly don’t mind it at all.

building your whole world back from the ground up wasn’t exactly what you would call easy, but you did it -- it took weeks, and sometimes you’re not so sure you made it all the way just yet, but you’re here and that’s all that matters. you’re here, finally fully unpacked and settled in and refreshed. well, for the most part, anyway. because, you see, as hard as it was to build everything back up, it was so easy to knock it all back down again. it only took the slightest shift, the smallest rumble in your foundation, and suddenly everything was collapsing in on itself. you tried so hard to convince yourself that that wasn’t the case, to ignore it, but it was more than simply difficult. maybe it was because the littlest things reminded you of them -- you couldn’t even say their name anymore in your head, couldn’t think it, because that makes them real again -- and sometimes you felt as if you’d never truly get away, never truly forget. it could be a certain smell that takes you away, or a face that looks slightly familiar in passing, but it only ever took a single, fleeting moment for cold reality to come rushing back to you. thankfully, you had things to distract you -- you’d found some new hobbies to partake in, even took up a new class or two so you had less downtime, and you tried getting out a little more when freetime still found you. such a thing became easier when you had a roommate like yours; though shy he had a lot of friends, all of which were loud and boisterous and a lot of fun, never minding your presence and always far too ready to include you in just about everything. ah, and your roommate -- your roommate was a distraction all on his own. his name was park jimin. you’d had a few classes with him, but you’d never really spoken before he heard you discussing your current living conditions with a friend and how you needed a new place -- he’d just lost a roommate and needed help with the rent, and who were you to say no? there had been no convincing needed, no real questions asked, just an impulsive ‘ yes ’ and suddenly you were living with him under a week later. even now you were still getting to know him, but you didn’t really need to know him to see him. he was, by all means, entirely too attractive with his plump lips, expressive eyes and sharp jawline -- hell, you could spend all day pointing out all of his physically attractive features, and even then you were sure you’d still have more to say. that didn’t account for his win-you-over personality, though, and the adorable little quirks you’ve gotten to see while living under the same roof ( you’d stopped trying to count the amount of times he runs his fingers through his hair throughout the day, or how many times he hums absentmindedly as he thinks of the next thing to say ). the fact that you’ve never met someone quite as hard-working and earnest as him helped, too. in short, he made it easy to not think about anything else when he was around. your first and most prime example would probably be right now. you aren’t sure exactly what time it is, but you know it’s still early, because the sun’s fresh, subtle rays are streaming in through your bedroom window accompanied only by the sound of birds softly chirping. you don’t exactly feel refreshed, but the sound of bowls and utensils clanging has you dragging yourself out of bed and down the hall, anyway. it isn’t until your feet hit the cold tiled floor of the kitchen, though, and gentle humming hits your ears that you actually open your eyes. the very first thing you’re greeted with is jimin’s messy hair and bedraggled appearance, form still adorned in an oversized t-shirt and pajama pants long enough to nearly cover his toes completely. adorable is the first word to come to your mind, and you find the smallest smile gracing your lips at the sight of him, but a yawn quickly allows it to slip away just as he notices your presence. ❝ ah, i’m sorry -- i didn’t wake you, did i? ❞ you shake your head before the words ever roll off your tongue, and yet still you clarify: ❝ no, you didn’t. what are you making? ❞ he smiles at that, though you aren’t entirely sure why -- still, you find yourself returning it, watching as his grows with the sight of it. ❝ nothing special, just pancakes! well, i’m trying to, anyway, ❞ he replies, attention returning to the stovetop just as his freehand comes up to nervously scratch at the back of his head. ❝ i wanted to make something for your first official morning here, but i'm not entirely sure what i’m doing... ❞ ❝ how about some help, then? gotta start roommate-bonding at some point, right? ❞ the smile that alights across his features could light up an entire room, and even without the nod he provides you’re sure you would’ve figured out exactly how he felt about your offer just by the look in his eyes alone. so, your morning officially starts with some of your favorite songs pouring out of the speaker of your phone, sat lopsided inside a stray bowl to amplify the sound -- jimin’s idea, and although strange it was... slightly genius at the same time, you had to admit -- and the precarious balance of teamwork that went into trying to make pancake batter in such a small space. by the time you’d actually gathered the ingredients up and managed to squeeze together on one side of the counter, two eggs had already fallen and cracked on the floor and little droplets of milk decorated the countertop. jimin didn’t seem to mind the mess -- in fact, when the eggs rolled out of your grip and smashed onto the floor he could only giggle, though you weren’t sure if it was at what you’d just done or the expression on your face after the fact. still, you found yourself giggling along, and eventually you both found yourselves falling into an easy atmosphere that you could only credit to him. ❝ okay, we need one and a half cup of flour next, ❞ you began, eyes flickering across the countertop in an attempt to locate exactly what you needed, eventually finding that it was nowhere in sight. hadn’t you just placed it down? ❝ where is it? ❞ ❝ right here. ❞ something about his tone should’ve told you what was coming -- you’d seen it enough in tv shows and movies -- but you still curiously turned to look where it could’ve possibly ended up, before your eyes were fluttering closed and your body tensed in preparation for the impact of cloudy, white powder to speckle the skin of your face. really, you only had yourself to blame, and as you spluttered in momentary shock and finally managed to pry your eyes open you knew you’d be looking at one of his cheek-splitting eye smiles that he wore so often. although you’d only gotten to know that expression in passing, you knew you’d see it more often if this was anything to go by. things went silent and still for all of ten seconds, before you were reaching for the flour still held tight in his grip, only to be forced to move after him as he quickly backed away. a game of chase should’ve been easy in such a small space, and yet he still managed to slip out of your grip the very second your fingers brushed the soft material of his shirt. ❝ give it to me! ❞ you exclaimed, just as he twirled out of your grasp for the tenth time. ❝ you deserve it! ❞ ❝ me? ❞ came his response, spoken on the tail end of bubbling laughter and quite possibly the warmest smile you’d ever laid eyes on. ❝ i didn’t smash eggs on the floor! ❞ ❝ that was an accident! ❞ ❝ so was this! my hand just... slipped! ❞ the rest of your morning continued just like that, flour speckling the skin of your faces like powdery constellations, all in the aftermath of what you’d consider the hardest workout you’ve had in what seemed like forever. and, for the first time in a long time it was easy to smile, easy to laugh, with jimin bumping his hip into yours and imitating the voices of all of your favorite singers -- he made life feel simple for a fleeting moment in time, wrapping you up in the sunny yellow of his kitchen and the warm tones of his voice. reality came crashing back down eventually, though, after you both had finally sat down and finished all the hard work -- and play -- that went into making your celebratory breakfast. when the clinking of forks against your plates and the idle chatter and laughter finally came to a standstill as he stood from the table, you felt the smallest ache as you watched his back disappear into the kitchen. it was an ache you were far too familiar with, one that you’d thought, at one time, you could get used to -- one that used to bring you some semblance of joy. now, it left the silence feeling overwhelming and strange, like it was your first time experiencing the absence of noise. for a second, a brief lapse in time, you felt absolutely terrified. then, jimin was coming back into the room and filling the quiet with his shuffling and his humming and his gentle voice, and it all got shoved back down again. ❝ so? ❞ he starts, cocking his head a little and regarding you with another award winning smile. ❝ i know i threw flour in your face, but did you like it? the pancakes, i mean. not... me throwing flour in your face. ❞ ❝ it was good, flour in my face included, ❞ you replied, smiling at him just the same. ❝ is this going to be every morning with you? ❞ ❝ mmm, ❞ jimin hums, tapping his chin lightly and looking off to the side as if deep in thought. ❝ maybe... maybe not. i have to keep you on your toes, right? ❞ ❝ right, ❞ you laugh lightly, just as you find yourself adoring the way his eyes glitter with mischievousness ( even if it is at your expense ). and, just as you started the morning, you finish it together, him washing the dishes and you drying them. most of it is spent in comfortable silence, only interrupted by the shuffling of songs in the background and the hum of life just beyond the walls of your shared apartment. within it you find yourself watching him, admiring the way the sunlight streaming through the windows hits him just right and creates a halo of golden light surrounding him. he looks entirely too angelic for his own good, but in the moment you think it fits him -- he was your angel, after all, saving you from your old life with a simple gesture and slowly bringing light back into your dreary world. ❝ what? is there something on my face? ❞ his nervous laughter brings you back down to earth and away from your thoughts, forcing you to realize you’ve been caught staring at him for god knows how long -- you return his nervous laughter with some of your own, and try to fumble out an excuse that doesn’t sound too terribly half-assed. ❝ no, sorry, it’s just -- i wanted to thank you again for letting me live with you. i’m not sure what i would’ve done without you, honestly. ❞ ❝ like i said before, there’s no need to thank me -- you’re helping me out, too. besides, i’m happy you’re here! my last roommate wouldn’t even talk to me, so i’m glad i’ve got someone like you, now. i’d just be thankful if you stayed. you’ll stay with me, right? ❞ his words do something funny to your heart, but you just smile and try to ignore the way it forces clusters of butterflies to flutter in your stomach. ❝ yeah... yeah, i’ll stay. ❞ you say yes and even nod your head along to the words coming out of your mouth, but as you look at him smiling at you, face still covered in flour and hair a mess, you don’t think you could’ve said no if you tried. what have you gotten yourself into?

❝ jayleen? ❞ a voice shatters the silence that had encompassed your apartment, causing you to jump a little in your seat and frantically turn to find the source, only to find jungkook standing nervously at the threshold of your bedroom door. it takes all of ten seconds to process the scene that just unfolded before you, but it takes you even less to jump out of your chair and run to him. the hug you share is tight, wrapped up in his giggle and the warmth in your chest — maybe you missed him more than you thought. ❝ jeon! what are you doing here? ❞ you ask, propping your chin on his chest as you look up at him. ❝ not even a hello first? want to get rid of me already? ❞ ❝ you know what i meant! ❞ the chuckle you get in return is enough to weaken your knees and force you to lean into him just a little bit more ( or maybe it was just an excuse to get closer to him ). his body heat washes over you, and the light scent he carries on his body teases you, both cloaking you in something so soothing that you almost wonder how you got through all that agonizing time without him. ❝ i’ve got a few days to myself, and i’ve missed you, so, ❞ he starts, the bright beam on his face melting into something softer, gentler, but you can barely catch a glimpse as he turns away, embarrassed by his own confession.  ❝ i thought maybe i’d spend it with you, instead of going home. is that... okay? ❞ ❝ of course it is, ❞ comes your reply, soft and assuring and truly happy, weight-free, for the first time in weeks.  you decided right then and there to forget about your responsibilities for just a little while, forget about the homework you needed to finish and the essays you needed to write and instead focus on him. and, such a thing was easy to stay true to, when you had no idea just how much he’d fill up your days and your head with nothing but him. his presence seemed to magnetize your full and undivided attention, allowing you to drop the weight off your shoulders and step into something lighter. time was spent in front of the television ( loud video game matches that ended up in your neighbors knocking on your door at 2 am, or lazy cuddling upon the couch ), in the kitchen ( you both made more of a mess than anything else, but the food was satisfying all the same when you could enjoy it with him ) and so wrapped up in one another that not a single care was sent to the outside world. it all seemed so perfect — exactly what you wished for and more — but in the back of your head all that time spent together only lead you to become hyper-aware of its approaching end date. the days seemed to go by so fast, whipping past you in a haze, and you barely had time to grasp at it before it slipped right out of your fingers. the silence that filled your apartment was solemn, knowing but refusing to believe it, so close to a funeral home that you’d think one of you died. it didn’t occur to you that he’d miss you just as much, that the moments between the meetings and the practicing and the producing was spent thinking of you. yet, you still found each other wound up in one another’s arms, legs tangled together and faces so close you were practically breathing each other’s air. the empty, numbing feeling in your chest only grew when he entangled his fingers with yours and squeezed, reassurance running over your knuckles and tracing patterns on the back of your hand. ❝ i'm going to miss you, ❞ you finally say, voice quieter than you intended, and though it was level, the emotion behind each letter was damn near palpable in the air.  he didn’t repeat the sentiment, but another firm squeeze of your hand and the way his eyes flickered up to meet yours told you he knew exactly how you felt, as if experiencing the sensations building up in your body right along with you. and, he looks at you right then — truly looks at you — and traces all the lines and curves of your face ( he never thought he’d love the shape of someone’s nose so much, or the shape of their eyes, but then this entire relationship has been nothing but a pleasant surprise ), until finally his gaze finds the dip of your cupid’s bow and the pink of your lips. briefly, he wishes he could compare your mouth to something, something poetic and pretty, something you could hold onto while he’s gone and remember with a certain level of fondness, of love. he’s never been adept at finding the right words at the right time, though — what he is good at is taking action.  so he does. first, it’s a simple peck to your lips that goes as fast as it comes, one you probably wouldn’t have been aware of if you weren’t watching him so closely. he doesn’t pull away very far, though, before he’s diving in for another and another and another, until you’re no longer breathing the same air — instead, he’s stealing it, robbing it straight from your lungs with fiery kisses that start small and grow longer, hungrier, fingers gripping at your jaw and cheek. easily, you reciprocate by digging your hands into his hair and scraping your nails over his scalp and sighing into his mouth all at once. feeding off of each other’s desire to be closer, to stay closer, you quickly became a needy entanglement of limbs and mouths and indecipherable little noises that got lost to the four walls of your bedroom. neither of you wanted to let go just yet, didn’t want to let this moment end, so you didn’t. open-mouthed kisses started at your mouth, but slowly work their way over your cheeks and down your jaw and across the column of your throat, each one sloppier than the last. with each movement he’s passing from his side of the mattress to yours, slowly encompassing you in him and only him, the heat and weight of him pressing down on you. fingers find the curve of your side and the length of your thigh and he can’t memorize it all at once, the way you feel right then, but that couldn’t stop him from trying. such clumsy and skittish actions proved that he’s never done this before, but then neither have you, and it seemed experience wasn’t needed to make you bloom underneath him like a flower in the spring — you don’t even have to think for your legs to make room for his hips as they find yours, and although there’s no hard press, no sensual roll, he’s releasing a shaky breath into the crook of your neck. this isn’t how he wanted this to go — jungkook never even expected to be here, doing this, tonight — and everything in him is screaming at him to slow down, to cherish this, because this is supposed to mean more than what it is. you mean more than this. and, he knows, he knows, that this is the closest you’ll both be for a while — that all he’ll have is the minutes of silence between everything else and the thought of you, and that sometimes a text isn’t enough. so, the hurried touches and messy kisses morph into wandering hands and gentle whispers into your skin, his fingers tracing the lines of your waist and the swell of your breasts and the skin just below your waistband, until the feather-light caresses have you squeezing at his shoulders and pressing up into him, the beginning and the end of either one of you indecipherable and impossible to find. fabric slides along your skin in whispers, passing over you and thrown to the floor unceremoniously, but you can’t be bothered to care where they end up as with every article you feel a little bit more of him.  there’s no need to question whether you want this with the way you say his name and pull him back in when he strays too far, but he asks anyway — he asks until you whine, until you plead, until you have to initiative yourself with both legs wrapped around his hips and a swift tug. finally, mercifully, his hips roll down to meet yours halfway and tentatively press into you with a groan and your head is falling back against the pillows, lips parted and tongue dry, eyes fluttering shut as tears brim at your lashes — pain mingles with warmth of the home he’s made in your chest ( still, he stops, he waits, only moving when you can’t take the stillness anymore and you cry in a different way ). eventually, the view of your ceiling becomes hazy and you feel your fingers digging into the fabric of the sheets or your pillowcase or the skin stretched over the muscle of his shoulders, feeling the way he slides against you and inside you and around you. everything is him, everything is you, everything is this and this and this, only this. ❝ i love you. ❞ he murmurs it into your skin like it’s the first words he’s said in years, raw and raspy and only loud enough for you to hear over his rough breathing and the noises spilling from your own mouth over and over again. he says it like a prayer, a chant silenced by the rock of his hips just right, like he might never get a chance to say it again — dramatic, maybe, but genuine all the same. ‘ i love you’s ’ switch to panted, ruined versions of ‘ jayleen, ’ interrupted only by your reciprocations of choked praises and his own name pressed into the juncture of his shoulder and his neck. eventually, even those are swallowed up by the heated passion pressed so tightly between the both of you, and all you can manage is unintelligible moans and the scratch of your nails down his back. and, none of it stops even after you’ve finished — your sweat-slickened bodies stay together, sticky and hot with the remnants of your shared haze, and every rise and fall of your chest is passed from one body to the other, over and over. your fingers even find his hair once again, though this time gentler and soothing, and his lips find your skin wherever he can reach; the heat has dissipated, but the love has not. ❝ i’m going to miss you, ❞ you say once again, quieter still.  shifting to look you in the eye one more time, you don’t wait for him to form an apology or another love-soaked kiss to act as a bandage for the oncoming loneliness. instead, he’s met with a soft smile that just barely brushes against your eyes and watches the way your fingers easily find the marred and softened skin he’d so carefully abused with his mouth. ❝ but, i guess i can stand waiting until these start to fade. ❞