#softhours.txt

you try your best to hold it in but when he puts a hand on your back and tells you that he’s here if you need someone to talk to, your tears spill on their own. 

he seems taken aback, almost apologetic but when you look up at him quivering lips, red nosed and teary eyed, he moves closer and wraps his arms around your shoulders without hesitation. 

“why are you looking at me like that?”

“i'm just super duper in love with you,” he replies simply, squeezing your hand. as sweet as that is, you're still suspicious

and san can tell, a cheeky grin coming to his face as he stops the two of you. despite kissing him many times, you're still momentarily surprised when he locks his lips with yours. you can still taste the lingering sweetness of the frozen yogurt he had. coconut, if you’re remembering correctly

as he pulls back, he admits, “and also you had froyo on your face”

your cheeks turn a slight shade of pink in embarrassment. san leans back in,

“not really, why?” you reply, eyes still trained on your laptop screen

“just wondering,” he mumbles

it’s then that you look up at him curiously, seeing his eyes downcast and brow furrowed. taking his hand in yours, you squeeze it before prompting him to continue, “why, yeosang?”

“i don't know,” he sighs, still unable to look you in the eyes as his voice goes quieter, “’cuz i think we are”

“what are you drawing?” you break the quiet, feeling his fingertips glide along your skin

“that’s a secret, my love” he reassures you, slight amusement picking up in voice at the end of his statement

“you’re drawing dicks again, aren’t you?”

yeosang must have noticed you physically curling in on yourself, angling your ears further away from the main source of the noise, the arm wrestling championship happening at the coffee table in the center of the living room

he shifts to quietly ask you, “ready to go home? because i don’t know about you, but i'm tired”

that’s something you love about yeosang, the unspoken understanding the two of you have about each other's limits

you nod

your boyfriend stands, keeping a secure arm around your shoulders as he waits for the boys to quiet down. they do. kind of. when its quiet enough for him to be heard without yelling, he announces, “that's it for us. goodnight, guys”

ateez give a chorus of ruckus goodbyes, and you can't wait to get out of there. exiting onto the quiet and open sidewalk, you can physically feel a weight come off your chest, able to breathe again

“thank you, yeosang”

even from the tower, you see the tension in san’s muscles, as if the weight of something as heavy as the world rests upon his shoulders. perhaps it has something to do with a certain member of the royal family.

you think back to the first time you ever watched san shoot. how you had heard praises of the young prodigy and his skills as an archer before seeing it yourself. how truly impressive and composed san was. for days, you didn’t let yourself forget the image of san proving himself to be the best archer of the kingdom, the control he had over the weapon even on the back of a horse and the accuracy of his shots.

[you: joong, are you up?]

it’s only a couple minutes later that your screen lights up with a reply

[hongjoong: no, i’m fast asleep]

despite his quip that should annoy you, you’re relieved. normally, you’d chastise him for being up so early and working himself so hard, but today you’re glad

[hongjoong: why are you up anyway?]

[you: can’t sleep]

[hongjoong: do you want to get breakfast? i know a place that opens at 6:30]

[you: sure]