howling at the moon

[ text; tao ] is that suggesting you miss me?

[text] ... maybe a little.

Perhaps it really was time to stop with this endless game of tug-of-war with himself. It was tiring and all too exhausting, but it was such an essential part of himself that he doesn’t know what he’d do if not for the familiar presence of control.

But it’s hard to abide by his own rules when he catches a glimpse of the other’s determined expression from the corner of his eyes, expression brutally raw and earnest. The sharp light of the streetlamp does no justice to the sharp slopes of the other’s face. Beautiful.

“What if I don’t want to go?”

Those words shouldn’t make him pause, shouldn’t stir up an unrecognizable turmoil in his stomach, yet…Zitao’s always had a knack of keeping him on his toes, and this is no different. His controlled mask slips enough to bring a smoldering glint into his eyes, barely-suppressed affection leaking onto his face as he turns to face the other. “Then stay.” he replies, voice hoarse as he returns the intense gaze. It frustrates him that those few words could so easily rouse him to action, but it doesn’t come as a surprise when he finally indulges his desire to reach up and cup the other’s nape with a firm grasp, pulling Zitao close enough to bump foreheads. “Stay with me. Be in my arms when I fall asleep, and be there when I wake up.” Because he doesn’t want to have to check every morning to see if Zitao was still there or not— the frustration of it all would be far too much for Sehun to handle with a calm facade.

His eyes fall away from Sehun’s face and instead he looks at his boots, how they’re worn and streaked with rain. His heart feels like a stone in his chest, heavy, sinking inch by inch, dislocating to the point of pain. Inhaling deep, Zitao sets his jaw and forces steely eyes back on Sehun. He didn't come all this way to run, after all. 

He expects anger or maybe nothing at all, but then Sehun’s expression of indifference melts away. Zitao’s heart gives a startled lurch at the sudden, blatant affection there and he’s taken aback.

“Sehun…“ he breathes, shocked, face scrunched almost comically as the other’s hand cups the back of his neck and draws him close. Their foreheads bump, noses brushing, and Zitao exhales unsteadily at the sudden proximity. His hands grip at the sides of Sehun’s shirt, like the rain will wash this moment away if he doesn't hold on. Before he can stop it tears start to pool in Zitao's eyes, making the bottom edges of his vision blurry.

“I thought you didn't care,” he admits, blinking hard to get rid of the tears. They slip down his cheeks anyway, clinging to his dark lashes as he looks into Sehun’s eyes. “I thought it... it wouldn't matter if I stayed or went. You always look so-" his voice breaks, and he feels terribly embarrassed. Closing his eyes to compose himself, Zitao swallows past the lump in his throat and tugs Sehun a little closer until the chill of the rain pales in comparison to the body heat between them.

“ ‘m sorry for worrying you…” he murmurs, opening his eyes. reaching up to cup Sehun’s cheek with one hand. He strokes the other's high cheekbone with his thumb, feeling silly for his tears. He’s sure his nose is bright red now. “I don’t want to run away anymore.”

Zitao moves the hand on Sehun’s cheek, fingertips skimming lower down the length of the other’s throat, along the width of his broad shoulder, and down a toned arm. He pauses at Sehun’s hand, intertwining their fingers.