#starclassificationao3

The clock reads 2:30 A.M. by the time Seonghwa hears Hongjoong's shoes drop to the floor by the front door.

He sighs to himself, not choosing to acknowledge it, or even alert to Hongjoong that he's awake until he enters his room.

He was lying on his stomach before he arrived, face lazily pressed into the pillow while his arms stayed outstretched in front of him, idly playing with his Switch's buttons.

The peaceful music of the game can be heard in his proximity, but it's quiet enough he's sure Hongjoong can't hear it yet.

He had arranged his pillow blanket fortress hours prior, once it had reached midnight and he realised Hongjoong likely wouldn't be back. Still, though, he isn’t able to fall asleep. He had some pillows propped below his chest, hips, and neck to make laying on his stomach as comfortable as possible. He's not sure he'd be able to leave, at this point. The bed is just so inviting and warm.

He's spent the last two hours grinding out his island on Animal Crossing. With it being a new season, there's lots to do, and he always loves cycling through villagers every once in a while. It reminds him of passing friends, meeting new people, letting them rest with you before they're onto greater things. It makes him smile, even if it's silly. It's such a peaceful game.

His moment of peace can't last forever though, because soon Hongjoong is timidly pushing open their bedroom door and peeking his head inside. Once he realises Seonghwa is still up, he hesitates, possibly anticipating a fight, before pushing the door open more boldly and coming to sit on the mattress next to him.

Seonghwa doesn't feel in the mood to dignify him with a greeting, not until he asks for one, so he just keeps fishing and catching colourful bugs silently. 

Hongjoong lets out a deep sigh from behind him, and lets the exhale deflate his body until he's resting an arm over Seonghwa's shoulders. It startles him, a little bit, the sudden contact— but soon he's unintentionally melting into the familiar touch. Hongjoong takes that as an invitation to snuggle further into his back, inhaling the scent of his hair. Seonghwa chuckles to himself, thinking of how amusing he is when he's sleep deprived. Much more touchy and open with his feelings, for one. Closing his eyes, Seonghwa takes it as typical 'after-work' cuddles before he feels it.

He's half hard.

He smirks to himself, suddenly losing interest in the game, but tries not to let it show. He knows how much Hongjoong loves when he plays hard-to-get, especially since they both know he's actually incredibly easy. He shifts a little bit to snuggle further into his pillow pile, and he feels Hongjoong tense behind him. He worries briefly that he's scared him off, before he feels his feverish fingertips start to nudge his shirt up his back.

It exposes his lower back enticingly, he knows it does, he can feel how his back stretches so satisfyingly when he's laying on his stomach. He knows his boyfriend loves it.

Hongjoong pushes his shirt up a little bit further before grabbing his hips, stroking the soft skin there. He leans down, lips pressing against the shell of Seonghwa's ear, before he speaks.

“Is this okay?"

It's whispered, barely so. Hongjoong's voice is creaky from not using it for hours, and Seonghwa finds it so very hot.

"Nn." is all he offers Hongjoong in return, further feigning his disinterest. He adds a bit of a shrug motion as well, going back to the game, clicking to clear the dialogue on screen.

Hongjoong just groans, loving this kind of play, and pushes his hips down into the pillow. Seonghwa can't lie, it felt good to be manhandled like that, pushed around to Hongjoong's whim. He bites his lip, knowing his face still isn't within the other's line of sight. 

Hongjoong gives a tentative grind against the curve of his ass, dry and light, with little pressure. It makes Seonghwa smile, the nervousness which Hongjoong always starts, as if they haven't done it a hundred times already. It's a cute quality he takes on when he's sleepy. Seonghwa loves it.

Hongjoong positions himself behind him more properly now, fully able to blanket him with his body. And Seonghwa loves the weight, always does. He loves when Hongjoong gets tired after fucking him from behind and lays on his back, enveloping him in his feverish weight, feeling like a comfort toy. He smiles, without realising it. It seems he’s just as impatient as his lover is, now. He really can't wait.

Hongjoong brings his hands to his ass, massaging lustfully. He squeezes. In response, Seonghwa decides to shift a little, as if he was just finding a comfortable way to sleep. He pushes his ass further into his lover's grip, while simultaneously rutting his hardening dick against the pillow below. This only serves to spur Hongjoong on more, because he's massaging harder now, roughly. With one light slap to his ass, he pulls back, leaning over them to rummage through their nightstand. He returns with lube, and tosses it to his side.

He rubs gently at Seonghwa's ass a bit more, addicted to the feeling, before slowly pulling down his silk pyjama pants to rest at his mid thighs. Clearly impatient.

Seonghwa vaguely registers the sound of the lube cap popping open, and it snaps him back to reality. Right, he was playing a game. He returns his attention to his Switch, which had just started to slip from his hands. He busies himself with upgrading little things around the town, and just as he's about to pay off a little debt, he feels a finger push inside his body. The console drops from his hands and he lets out an undignified squeak before scrambling to pick it up again. 

Hongjoong giggles from behind him, absolutely loving the little game they're playing with each other, and crooks his finger before slowly sliding in another.

Preparation is not usually this easy, Seonghwa's fuzzy mind provides. He credits it to his relaxed state, blissed out and sleepy. He loves how it feels, warm and soft.

Hongjoong's scissoring now, before pulling out to re-slick his fingers and add a third.

At this, Seonghwa lets himself divulge a satisfied moan, pressing his cheek into the pillow and shutting his eyes. Hongjoong’s giggling again, quietly, and pulls his fingers out, to presumably replace them with his cock. Seonghwa feels it, and knows it'll be a bit of a stretch, but doesn't find himself caring as he watches the silly text-box pop up on his screen from a passing villager there to compliment his decor. Hongjoong's feverish, really hot, as he rests his full weight on his back, and the feeling of him entering is only one of completeness as he bottoms out. It feels right, like home. Seonghwa lets his eyes flutter shut, the music lulling him into relaxed bliss.

Hongjoong grinds very nonchalantly against him, barely thrusting, just fucking him for the sake of it. Seonghwa loves the domesticity of it all, the idea of being an inviting wife for him to just lazily warm his cock in. It's past 3:30 when he looks back at his console's time, and he briefly finds it amusing that he's keeping his villagers awake just because he wants to multitask while he gets fucked. The giggle this brings him is soon replaced with a drawn out moan. He loves the feeling of Hongjoong in him, on him, everything. It just feels perfect.

He doesn't know how long they’re grinding against each other, or for how long he's been pushing his hips back to meet him. At some point he dropped his Switch, screen black and forgotten. He doesn't feel particularly close or far, just peacefully in the middle, his body satisfied with being used for the time being. 

He folds his arms and rests his head on them, whining into his lover's embrace, suddenly registering that Hongjoong has been kissing the back of his neck, his hair, his ears, for an indeterminable amount of time. His hips stutter. He's loved, it dawns on him then. Which feels silly, because he knows that, but trapped beneath Hongjoong's weight as he lazily thrusts into him, whispering sweet nothings as he peppers his neck in kisses— yes, this is love, real love, the kind he'd waited his whole life for.

Suddenly he feels even closer, with this beautiful realisation dawning on him so late at night, and his hips jerk more. Hongjoong notices, ever the observant one, and kisses more fervently along the crook of his neck. He lifts his head, pulling his arm out from under it, and slides it down to stroke his leaking dick. He shudders at the wetness, the ease of the slide, and bites his lip as he increases his strokes.

Hongjoong’s fingertips rest at the small of his back, pushing his hips down to a rhythm he controls, and in no time at all, he’s cumming into his fist with a kick of his hips. Hongjoong’s hands grab his waist, encouraging him through it, whispering more sweet nothings—

"So good for me baby, that's it, good boy, amazing job, I love you so much,"

(Hongjoong is always so good at sweet nothings)

… and soon his hips still and jerk too, stroking at Seonghwa's waist comfortingly as he fills him with warmth, the feeling spreading through his veins. His dick twitches from where it's trapped below him and he sighs, content, humming something for only Hongjoong to hear.

Hongjoong flops to his side, grabbing his waist and pulling him into an embrace. Seonghwa rolls back limply, letting himself get pulled into the hug. Hongjoong pushes his Switch to the other side of the bed and hugs him tighter, possessively. Already impossibly close because of the fact that they’re still connected at the hips, Seonghwa chuckles at his behaviour.

Before his brain has the ability to think about cleaning up, he finds himself drifting off to sleep. Hongjoong returns to pressing comforting kisses to the back of his neck, and he finds it so easy to let go of the day’s stress in wake of this feeling.

~~~

Hongjoong’s fingers play with Seonghwa’s as they walk down the cobblestone street. He’s trying to be discreet, in his own Hongjoong-like way, but Seonghwa sees right through him. So Seonghwa stifles a giggle as the shorter man looks pointedly in the opposite direction, fingertips still brushing the fur line of Seonghwa’s coat.

He figures Hongjoong is begging for something.

On a normal day, he’d think it’d be his attention, or for him to spend less time with the other members and more time with him (this, of course, is just another way to say attention). But today, he’s all Hongjoong’s; just the two of them, exploring the domestic, peaceful scenery of the small town. So, in this case, Hongjoong must want something else, or perhaps, something more.

The city is decorated romantically and flowery for Valentine’s Day, lots of pink and floral imagery bringing a serene smile to Seonghwa’s face. Hongjoong’s eyes are wide with childlike wonder as he tracks the decor, exploring with their hands now fully intertwined. At some point, Seonghwa had seemingly had enough of the tickling and just grabbed his hand, to which he had averted his gaze with red ears and squeezed it back.

As they eventually meander their way back to the hotel, and he’s sure of their privacy, Hongjoong levels Seonghwa with a pushy kiss. His back presses against the wall with the force of it, and his eyes widen. Hongjoong pulls back then.

“Today was really-” He cuts himself off with his own panting. “Really nice. I needed this.”

Seonghwa smiles warmly. He couldn’t agree more. 

“I agree. I always love spending time with you.”

Hongjoong doesn’t let the sappy moment last much longer, as he’s already connecting their lips again in another sloppy kiss. Seonghwa giggles at the impatience and turns them, walking backwards towards the queen-sized bed. When his legs hit the frame, he lets himself naturally sit. He looks around before he locates Hongjoong’s bathroom bag tossed carelessly by his side of the bed. He leans over and grabs it, setting it to the side in case they end up needing the lube he knows he keeps in there. He leans back a little, posture open for Hongjoong to do with as he pleases.

Hongjoong blinks at his submissiveness, understanding the invitation as it usually is. But then, something curious happens— his gaze becomes more darty, and he looks away, blush trailing down his neck.

“Actually, I was… Uhm,” Patient and intrigued, Seonghwa gives him a comforting look, urging him to continue. “Would you be okay with being the… well…” He looks into Seonghwa’s gentle brown eyes, hoping he could read his mind without having to say it. 

Eventually, it seems to click, and Seonghwa’s mouth opens in a soft “oh”.

“Yes, of course. Whatever makes you comfortable, honey.” 

Hongjoong’s heartbeat picks up at the pet name, and he nods to himself, a self-soothing motion.

“Okay, that’s good… Well…” He trails off—but stops—losing his train of thought.

Seonghwa waits patiently, in case he wants to say more, but he doesn’t; instead, he keeps his gaze averted (down, to the side, anywhere but his boyfriend’s face). Suddenly, he mounts his lap and pushes him back, forcing Seonghwa to brace himself on his arms.

“Woah,” He breathes, placing a stabilising hand on the small of Hongjoong’s back. “Easy.”

“Sorry.” Hongjoong mutters bluntly. His blush is spreading further and his shoulders are rising with his unsteady breathing. He doesn’t appear very sorry at all.

“We can take it slow baby, just breathe.” Seonghwa hums, petting his hair.

“But I’ve waited all day.” Hongjoong pouts.

It’s true, they’ve spent all day flirting in their own soft and subtle way, while wandering the town engulfed with romantic energy and imagery… Couples passed them, entangled and enraptured, unashamed to laugh and press into each other’s spaces. The two of them have always been different in that way, always nervous with their glances and touches. Through the years, it’s gotten easier, but never easy. It makes a sigh escape Seonghwa’s lips as he pulls the other into a hug, pressing a kiss into his hair.

“You have me,” He assures, trying to remain still under the other’s weight. “I’m not going anywhere, and we don’t have to do anything you’re uncomfortable with.” 

“I’m not uncomfortable,” Hongjoong cuts in, his voice pitchy. “…I’ve been thinking about this a lot, actually… and I really want you to. Please, have me.”

Seonghwa’s breath catches in his throat, overwhelmed with emotion. He knows that to Hongjoong, this is an unwavering symbol of trust. He would not entrust this to anyone else, and that thought in itself makes his heart race.

“Of course, who am I to say no to this opportunity?”

...

At the approach of fall, tension begins to mount. For Kim Hongjoong, this is a familiar feeling; something like bile rising in his throat with a recognisable spike of panic. He’s spending another day more or less completely alone.

He’s hitting his laptop’s trackpad with a little too much force, the anxiety of having to prove himself eating at his chest. The producer hyungs could only help him so much, in an objective, brotherly way. He fears he craves something so much closer, some sort of human connection with someone his own age, for once.

His memories of high school are still fresh in his mind.

He doesn’t want to be the person from back then anymore.

He thought that moving out, becoming an idol, writing music— he thought that all of these things would make him forget that he was different. He wants to think that this is his strength; often, it doesn’t feel like it. When he first met Seonghwa, he sensed that something was different about him too.

Passing him in the hallway, it feels like there’s something unspoken between them that they both know about each other, but fear talking about.

Hongjoong thinks it’s best that they don’t.

He’s unsure if his productivity is a blessing or a curse, when he’s writing so many words for someone he doesn’t talk to. The uncertainty of breaking the ice between them creates a larger divide than he knows how to cross— Writing is the only solution. He wipes at the tears that have formed from blue light, reflecting off his wide frame glasses that don’t sit straight on his nose.

He wants to fix them, but he likes the way they complement his face. He fears wearing anything else would make him look like a girl.

There’s a lot of things he’d like to fix someday.

Maybe his personality would be somewhere to start; the way he can’t go more than a second without wanting to snap at someone, anger being an emotion that’s as average to him as breathing. He thinks this makes him seem unpredictable. He knows if he dared apply to a different company, they would deny him for his volatility. He bites his lip in self hatred. He rubs at his eyes again.

He’s sitting on the floor of the dance practice room, not feeling in the mood to go back to the dorm. He knows that if he goes back there, Seonghwa will be there, and they’ll sit in charged silence, unsure of whether one of them should say something or not. He doesn’t hate him. He doesn’t even dislike him. However, there is this air about Seonghwa that he likes fixing people, and Hongjoong knows that there is no one out there more in need of fixing.

He chokes on a sob he doesn’t realise he’s holding.

—

The company building has gone dark around him, and one of his hyungs poke their head through the door.

“Hongjoong-ah, it’s getting late,” They say, tone light, as if talking to a frightened animal. “You should head back to the dorms now. We’re gonna lock up soon.”

Hongjoong knows he can’t stay in his bubble forever. Eventually it has to pop, and he’ll have to wallow in the awkward silence that leaves him wondering if Seonghwa sees through him—sees through his skin that feels more and more like a disguise the more he wears it.

“Okay.” He croaks, his unused voice surprising him, but only momentarily. He always sounds like that, doesn’t he? He rubs at his throat, as if it would make him sound like a normal boy, one who hadn’t spent another day writing music in an empty room by himself.

As he parts his ways with his hyungs, he walks in the direction of the dorms. When they’re out of sight, he turns, not ready to go back yet. Circling the city, there’s many hidden gems to be found under the blanket of night, without the judgemental eyes of the waking. In one of his strolls around the block, he had found a playground. With a small set of monkey bars and two swings, it could really hardly be called one. It’s still where he goes when he doesn’t want to go back to sleep just yet.

The thought of another day dawning on him scares him more than being alone under the moon; rocking on a creaky swing set, waiting for the chill to force him back into his bed. The loneliness is fine, then, when he feels he’s in control of it. He’s isolating himself on purpose. It’s a lot less bad than being isolated, he thinks, which is why he’d prefer the eerie silence of the night over the warm silence of his shared room.

As he approaches his safe space, a shadow becomes visible, pushing themself back and forth on the swings.

Hongjoong briefly feels fear-stricken. This is his only spot to be alone, and there’s no way anyone else could take it from him… He couldn’t accept that reality.

As he steps closer—his anxiety pushing him closer, instead of farther, from the sullen stranger—he feels betrayed. Recognition, that is what he’s experiencing.

He feels angry, for a moment, and he hates himself for it.

Seonghwa’s head is hanging between his shoulders, rolling side to side with the rhythm of the swing set.

He feels shameful. He hates himself for it. 

At the sound of crunching leaves, Seonghwa lifts his head, his eyes meeting his. To Hongjoong, his eyes almost appear hopeful, that is, if there was any reason for his face to instil hope in the first place.

Hongjoong settles in the swing next to him. Still silent, he sets his computer bag down to lean on the rusty pole holding them up.

“You came.” Seonghwa says, a taste of bittersweet on his tongue.

Hongjoong’s mouth fills with an acidic, disgusting taste. Seonghwa thinks he’s here for him, not to escape him. His eyes well up with bitter tears, for everything he’s done, everything he hasn’t said, and everything Seonghwa felt alone.

“I did.” He rasps, not willing to out himself as the villain of this story yet. Maybe someday, when they’re famous idols, when he and Seonghwa are close, he can joke about the fear he felt in this moment.

“To be honest, I thought you hated me,” Seonghwa whispers in reply, worrying the hem of his sweater between his fingers. “I- I don’t know, did I do something wrong? I’m sorry if you’re just introverted, ‘cause me- me too.”

“That’s not it,” Hongjoong corrects, not sure what point he was supposed to be making. “It’s not you… Seonghwa, I’m not like you and the producer hyungs. I’m… different, I don’t- I can’t—”

“Some days,” Seonghwa cuts him off, a subtle whimper in his voice. “Some days, I lay awake in bed and wish I had been born as someone else. …You know, some days,” His voice cracks, “I lay awake and wonder if it would be so bad to try reincarnating.”

Hongjoong knows what he means. He turns his head away. 

“It’s not like I’m scared to tell you that I can tell you’re different, Hongjoong,” He continues. Hongjoong thinks his full name sounds odd on his tongue. “I’m scared to find out that you can tell.”

“I can.” He interjects before he can stop himself.

“I know you can.” Seonghwa mumbles, pushing the swing back further before letting go.

“So what, then?” Hongjoong doesn’t mean to sound so mean. He grits his teeth, drawing blood from the seam of his tongue.

Seonghwa laughs, a pained sound.

“So what? Let’s reincarnate together. I don’t know.”

“That’s wrong,” Hongjoong says, some form of instinctual response that he’s heard a thousand times from people who thought they could help him. “There’s a lot of reasons to keep living.”

Seonghwa laughs again. 

“Yeah, you’re right. Like my roommate who hates me, and dancing for a company that’s going bankrupt.”

“I don’t hate you.” He lets the dead air settle between them like dust on an unplayed piano.

“Hongjoong, can you tell me something?” Seonghwa counters. “How did you have the courage to do it?”

“Courage?” Hongjoong wants to cry. He’s the least ‘courageous’ person in the world. “I’m not courageous at all. I’m scared all the time. Some days, I regret it.”

“I feel like I’ll be the same,” Seonghwa hums solemnly. “Was it worth it?”

“I guess so,” Then, copying what Seonghwa had said to him minutes ago, “Some days, I lay awake and think it’d be easier to just be born again. I think ‘coming out’… it made that feeling ease and intensify at the same time.” He doesn’t know why he’s saying it. Maybe, he thinks, helping Seonghwa through this will help him see the light in his own life.

“I guess you’re the only person I’ll tell for now, then… Not like I have many other friends.” He… no, they chuckle bitterly, shaking their head. “I’m not like the producer hyungs either, Hongjoong. I think… No, I know… I’m- I’m a girl on the inside. Some day, I’d like to be a girl on the outside, too.”

“Congratulations,” Hongjoong says awkwardly, cringing at himself. “I mean, well… You’re quite courageous too, you know.”

“Thanks,” Seonghwa mutters, their voice shaking. “I hope you don’t see me any differently.”

That culls a short laugh from Hongjoong’s throat. “That would be kind of hypocritical, wouldn’t it?”

He pauses, meeting Seonghwa’s black eyes, shining in the dark. They’re wet and glassy, and Hongjoong gets the urge to apologise. For something, for everything.

“I think it wouldn’t change how I saw you, because inside, I think I always sensed it,” He near whispers. “You, um, feel right as a girl, Seonghwa.”

The reticence stretches between them, leaving Hongjoong to doubt if what he said was right.

Maybe he just said what he thought he’d wanted to hear when he came out, instead of a bunch of confused yelling and crying. Maybe saying this will make it so her feelings of despair will fade; the idea of coming out conforming to be associated with relief, not regret.

When he turns to meet Seonghwa’s gaze again, her arms are crossed over her eyes. Sobs are being wracked from her body with every breath, and Hongjoong wants to run away. He wants to flee to a world where he never had to exist in the first place, to avoid wreaking havoc in someone else’s life that has nothing to do with his own.

“Thank you, I-” Seonghwa stands then, wobbly legs shaking underneath her. She holds her arms out to Hongjoong, and he looks between her hands and face rapidly. “Can I have a hug? …Just this once?”

“Uh, I-” Hongjoong hesitates, his mind and body going into fight or flight, his guilt pulling him to stand on his feet by her side. “Sure.”

He doesn’t move as he allows her to cover him in her warmth, her height making it easy to rest her head atop his. His arms remain pinned at his side. Unable to will himself to hug back, he shakes, dry sobs razing his body.

Seonghwa adjusts her arms to pet his overgrown hair, and he sobs for real.

“Seong…” He slurs wetly, arms lifting infinitesimally to pull the hem of her sweater.

She shifts, placing her hands on his wrists and lifting them to her waist. He gives, then, hugging tightly, as if pulling away would break him. He buries his head in the crook of her neck, and she huffs out a weak laugh.

Even though Seonghwa had come to him for help, he couldn’t help but feel like she was saving him instead.

Silence stretches on for an eternity, he doesn’t know how long. The chill seeps into his bones when Seonghwa eventually pulls away, her warmth being a grounding force in the dead of the night.

“Let’s head back.” She decides, grabbing his bag off the ground.

He doesn’t reply. He doesn’t know how.

Aware of the shift in their relationship, but unable to conceptualise it, Hongjoong feels forced into contemplative silence. The walk back to their room is short enough, but again, time is distorted in the electric space between them, so it feels like hours. Or maybe it feels like seconds.

Seonghwa unlocks the door for them, leading him inside a space that makes him feel like a passing guest. This room doesn’t feel like home, not yet— He thinks Seonghwa knows that too, but doesn’t want to say it, in fear of making it real. Seonghwa shucks her jacket and hangs it on a small hook on the wall, slowly shedding her jeans soon after. Hongjoong stares, and yearns. He copies her motions, lazily throwing his jacket over his chair, not wanting to pull his eyes away. He shakes his head and turns, wriggling out of his pants to prepare for sleep.

When Seonghwa begins adjusting her bed, Hongjoong just observes. He stands frozen by the door, watching her delicate hands pick and preen at a room that barely looks lived in. Hongjoong wonders if she wants him to help. He doesn’t. He just watches.

After one last smoothing motion over her blanket, she sits atop it, crossing her legs just to uncross them again. She pats the space beside her. Hongjoong feels beckoned. He doesn’t know what she wants—doesn’t think this is a good idea—but can’t stop his body from moving.

She reaches out then, placing her hand on the nape of his neck as she leans closer. Before he can realise it, she’s delicately pressing her lips to his forehead. He flinches, another sob shaking his body. He vaguely notices she’s shushing him, quietly, gently. She pets his hair with a soothing touch, and slowly pulls away.

“Can you do me a favor?” She asks, voice rough and cracking. “Just this once, can you stay here?”

Before Hongjoong can open his mouth to defend himself—maybe to say something contrived about how he’s not gone that often—Seonghwa speaks again.

“In this bed, with me, please?” She sounds so much younger when she says it, begging with a sort of urgency that reminds Hongjoong of when he was more afraid of the dark.

“Okay.” Is all he says then, letting her crawl in first. He settles beside her, limbs hanging awkwardly off the side of the twin-sized mattress. She wraps her arms around him, hugging him like a pillow, grounding him to her body. He shakes, but tries so hard not to. He cries, and he lets himself.

After an indeterminable amount of time, Seonghwa’s breathing slows behind him, and her grasp slackens. Hongjoong lets out a sigh he didn’t realise he was holding, and listens. He can feel her breath fan against the back of his neck in even bursts. It makes him squirm. He swallows in the silence, thinking about everything and nothing at the same time. His brain whirs in senseless circles, a tornado of feelings that he doesn’t understand. Seonghwa shifts behind him, burying her face further into the space between his shoulder blades. He sucks in a breath and lets her. The rise and fall of her chest soon serves as his metronome for sleep—but he can’t fully dream, he can only nod off in her presence—put into a trance by her vulnerable state.

When he brings a hand up to rub his tired eyes, tears smear over his face, and he sniffs weakly. 

Sun peaks its way through the curtains before Hongjoong is able to notice the passage of time.

He shuts his eyes, as he feels Seonghwa once again shift behind him, nestling further into their shared space. And finally, tiredness wins its battle, lulling him into a tender sleep.

—

When he wakes, Seonghwa is still there. Her arms are no longer wrapped around his waist; instead, they’re browsing on a phone that he knows she’s not allowed to have. Pretending to still be asleep, he stretches dramatically and turns over, throwing an arm over her middle. She chuckles, breathy with sleep, and places her hand on the back of his head. She doesn’t make any action to move her hand, just rests it there as he evens out his breathing to appear normal. It doesn’t really work; his heart is hammering in his chest from where it’s trapped between the two of them.

Her hand drags down his back, coming back up to rest on his shoulder. She nudges him, then. He scrunches his eyes further shut, not wanting this moment to end.

“Morning,” She hums, not stopping her hand from drifting up and down his back. “Did you sleep?”

He likes how she doesn’t bother to ask if he slept well. He has a feeling she knows he didn’t. He doesn’t.

“A little.” He squeaks, burying his head further into her warmth.

“That’s good to hear.” She replies, shifting to lay on her side, resting her head atop his. His body screams at him to pull back, alarm spiking momentarily before it gives way to comfort— an unfamiliar emotion.

He thinks that Seonghwa is actually quite clingy.

Before, she had seemed the type of person to be distant, unsure and untrusting of new people. He thinks that may very well still be true, but deep down, she craves physical contact and human connection.

She’s not so different from Hongjoong, in some ways.

He wishes he was more of a touchy person. Cradled in Seonghwa’s arms now, he feels a resounding sadness for never having done this before. Never being so closely embraced, never hugging or being hugged—unless he was being forced to. Like this, he can understand why people would want to, why everyone always seemed over-the-top to him in his childhood; again, he laments missing the chance to be truly nurtured, and he curls in on himself.

From across the room, Hongjoong’s extremely loud alarm clock sings its daily trill. He flinches, knowing that this—their moment will have to end and likely never be discussed again. Pulling away, he disentangles himself from her limbs, sticky from her sweat. The pleasure of oppressive heat is soon replaced with the despondent nature of the cold.

Which is the way most of Hongjoong’s mornings start, he would suppose. With one last look back at Seonghwa, he pleads. He hopes the expression he makes conveys everything he wishes he could say right now— Turning away before he can regret it, before he can hate himself, and before he can say something that would ruin this forever, he exits the room to get ready for practice.

—

did you enjoy?