with bubbles!

Sometimes, when it’s late at night and he’s tired after a long day of work, he looks up at his ceiling and tries to think of them as bullet points inside his mind: the way the sunlight seeps in through the big windows of the café every morning, breaking past the curtains and reflecting upon the delicate leaves of the hundreds of plants he’s set to tend to day by day. Your laugh whenever Lucas tells a dumb joke, traveling through the space and into his ears, coming inside his head as the most beautiful song he’s ever heard. The calmness and steadiness of a Sunday morning spent in bed. Your voice on the other side of the phone. The foam that collects at the top of his freshly-brewed morning coffee. The warmth of your body on his skin when you accidentally bump into him while walking past.

Johnny has known, from the very first time he saw you, that he’s in love with you. He had been brought down by accident, a failed spell from Kunhang’s book summoning him right as he was about a chess match against Jaehyun, one of his best friends. In the days he had arrived on earth, he still couldn’t believe such a clueless wizard could have summoned him, a powerful demon, without even meaning to, but once he met you, he started wondering if maybe fate had played a part.

He’d always found it funny — a demon, believing in fate? He’d believe in anything as long as anything meant you.

“It’s good the weather kind of picked up,” you say as you walk up the steps that lead to the rooftop. “If you had planned on taking me out there in the rain, I think I would have asked Kunhang to brew you a duck transformation potion.”

Johnny gasps, (harshly and loudly) slapping a hand to his chest. He’s walking right behind you, and you can almost feel the warmth of his breath against your neck.

“Quack,” Johnny breathes out, giggling.

It had been completely unexpected; Friday night, you had been drinking a cup of peach-infused tea as Lucas and Johnny set to clean up the kitchen after a long day, when the latter had held your hand and walked off with you following behind. He kept saying he had a surprise prepared for you, something to celebrate the news you had just received a little earlier, and although he wouldn’t budge in telling you what it was, his freshly ironed black button-up gave you an important clue.

“You should have told me I had to dress up nice,” you say, breathing out a little more relaxed once you’re able to see the door leading to the rooftop up ahead. “I’m in jeans!”

“I’m also in jeans, baby,” Johnny laughs. He reaches up, placing a palm on the small of your back, fishing the keys from his pocket with his free hand. “And anyway, you look as beautiful as ever.”

You don’t answer, too focused on the fact that the closer you get to the door, the more you can hear music playing faintly — except the more you walk, the louder the sound becomes. Is Johnny playing Baekhyun’s Candy?

“Now, close your eyes,” Johnny whispers as soon as you reach the last step. He leans against you to open the door, and you catch a wisp of his cologne when you hear the keys dangle loudly. “Don’t peek! It’s a surprise!”

“Johnny, we’re here already!” You say, but you oblige, closing your eyes just as Johnny twists the doorknob so you can walk outside. “Okay, just tell me when you can open them. I don’t want to bump against a wall or something.”

“I wouldn’t let you,” he whispers against your ear as he helps guide your steps. “Ivy would never forgive me… which means Kunhang would probably bewitch me when I’m showering or something.”

A gust of air meets your face as soon as you step outside. Senses are immediately overwhelmed, and you try to make sense of everything you’re feeling, but it all comes together to simply send your heart on a frenzy before Johnny can even give you the green light to finally see what his surprise is all about.

You try to piece everything together; the music playing from a speaker nearby, the sweet smell that resembles freshly-baked pastries, the city sounds rising from the back and mixing in with the music, the feeling of Johnny’s hand on your back.

“You can open your eyes now.”

And you’re not completely sure what you’re seeing is real. It’s like a scene that has just come out of a movie, or a dream, because the more you see, the more you’re convinced that what you’re seeing is romanticism brought to life. The rooftop, deeper than it is wider, is covered in multiple series of fairy lights that hang from side to side, completely illuminating the entire space. There’s a table and a couple of chairs set near one of the furthest corners, and every single centimeter next to the edges of the rooftop are all traced with tall, colorful bougainvillea bushes. Next to the table stands a bar that’s decked with food and drinks; you can’t quite make out all of the dishes and concoctions that await you, but the mix of smells that reach you don’t fail to make your mouth water.

“Johnny,” you whisper, spinning slowly to make sure you catch every single detail. A rose bouquet rests in the middle of the table, and you can feel your voice threatening to break when you begin to speak. “You did all of this?”

“Had to celebrate my baby,” he says, quickly pecking your cheek as he moves to walk in front of you. “It’s not everyday you get offered to co-own the café, is it?”

Taking your hand in his, he guides you over to the table, and the song changes to a soft Ariana Grande tune when you finally reach it.

“Still, I can’t believe you actually pulled this together, I’m just ​​— when did you even have the time?”

“The boys helped earlier today,” Johnny winks, moving so he can pull the chair back for you to sit. He’s decided to top the surprise by being the textbook definition of a gentleman, and you don’t miss the slight smile on his face when he sits down in front of you. “You would have thought I paid them, with how excited they were setting the lights up and everything.”

“What, you didn’t pay them? Kunhang helped you for free?”

“Yeah, something about loving love, or whatever,” he waves a hand in the air. “Lucas though, he still owed me for last week’s pizza.”

“You owe me for last week’s pizza, you punk!”

“I thought the kisses made up for it!”

The world stops when you begin laughing, time hanging from your mouth in a delicate thread that threatens to break if only disturbed ever so slightly. It’s almost like earth spins solely for and because of you, its rhythm finding and matching yours. He knows his world does, at least, and that’s all he cares about.

“I’m really grateful for this, you know?” You say. “For everything. For this, for you being there, for you feeling proud of me when I don’t even know what I’m doing half of the time. All I know is you’re there, next to me, and that’s anchoring enough… even when you join Kunhang’s TikTok recordings instead of actually helping me manage the café.”

“Baby, there will never be a day where I’m not feeling proud of you. Of everything you do and everything you are. I love my life here simply because I love you being in it.”

In that moment, standing on the colorful rooftop of the café, Johnny can’t help but notice everything around him, and remember some of the things that are not. Everything that make you and him, you and him. Your smile as you look up to the sky. The sound of water bubbling up inside the kettle. The feeling of your hand on his. The smell of freshly baked raspberry pastries. The weight of your head coming to rest over his shoulder.

The sound of his beating heart, thumping loudly against his chest the moment a smile breaks upon his face.

“And come on, deep down, you know you also want to join Kunhang’s TikTok recordings.”

You realized about six months ago that you had fallen in love with him; the butterflies that incessantly fluttered every time he brushed past you in the kitchen and your heart that burst every time you made him laugh made no doubt of that. This was a major problem, you had decided. Feelings like these never ended well. Not for you anyway. And you’d be damned if you let them get in the way of having Yuta in your life.

So you pretended like the feelings did not exist. And for the most part, it had worked; you and Yuta lived together as usual. Each day, you got to wake up excited for whatever adventure Yuta would bring into your little apartment without the fear of scaring him away with whatever mess was happening in your chest. Until a month ago when he brought home a stray cat, claiming her name was Brie (after the cheese). At that moment, you knew you had to take extra measures to tame that relentless heart of yours before it got more out of hand.

That’s why you’re here, trying to get some sleep so you could wake up at the ass crack of dawn to go hiking with Jaehyun from your English class. It would be your second date with him, and for a frat boy who isn’t quite your type, he did help you suppress your feelings. You had told Yuta about your early plans, and usually, that would have been enough for him to stay quiet for the night. And yet, you have a strong feeling that you could be in for a long night if you don’t intervene right now.

With a huff, you throw off your covers and pillow and stomp over to the room next door, unceremoniously letting yourself in. His room is messy as always with clothes and instruments strewn about; you don’t even bother trying to navigate it, and instead stay by the door. Yuta, who is sitting on his unmade bed, barely spares you a glance before he’s back to toying with his guitar, only fueling your frustration more.

“Yuta,” you say sternly. He answers with a non-committal hum, which at least gives you the impression that he knows you’re there. “I need to wake up early tomorrow, remember?”

“You do? For what?” he mumbles, most of his focus remaining on his guitar. You gape at him. You had definitely told him about your date over dinner and he had definitely said ‘okay’, or something along those lines. So why the fuck was he being so difficult?

“For my date with Jaehyun? I have to leave early so we can see the sunrise or whatever.”

“Oh.” He frowns at the strings he is still strumming, absolutely refusing to make any type of eye contact with you. “You’re still going to that?”

“I-- yes, I am,” you say, brows furrowed. He is being so weird. “So I would very much appreciate it very much if you could keep it down for tonight, because I’d rather not look like a zombie when I go on my date.”

Finally, Yuta looks up at you, his expression now indiscernible. “Why?”

“I mean, I don’t think it’s odd to want to look nice for a date--”

“No, I mean,” he lets out a sigh, “why are you going out with this guy?”

At this point, all you can do is stare at him incredulously, unable to help the frustration slowly coming to a boil under your skin. “Wha--What do you mean?”

“Do you even like him?” The question hits you like a punch to the gut, leaving you speechless as you scramble for some kind of answer. Suddenly, the air in the room is thick and it slowly seeps into your lungs when you open your mouth to reply, but no words seem to come out. “Well, do you?”

Your mouth feels dry. “W-why does it matter?”

“That isn’t an answer.” It wasn’t, but to you, it really didn’t matter whether you liked Jaehyun or whoever you went on a date with or not. That wasn’t the point. He helped you forget and that was a good enough start for you. But you couldn’t exactly tell Yuta that. Now, your roommate looks straight at you, his gaze piercing you as though it sees right through you. “It’s just… why would you date him if you don’t like him?”

“Who said I didn’t like him?” you retort all too quickly.

At that, Yuta lets out an amused scoff. The smirk he sends your way nearly makes your knees go weak. Why does he have to make this so difficult? “Oh come on. A frat dude? We both know that that’s not your type.”

The intensity of his gaze suddenly causes heat to rise up your neck to your cheeks-- whether it is from irritation or from the fluttering in your stomach, you aren’t quite sure. Either way, there isn’t any denying that Yuta is right, but you couldn’t let yourself fall apart so easily. You barely stammer out a reply. “I-- What if I just wanted to try something new?”

“Look,” Yuta says, setting his guitar aside so he can stand and face you. “It would be fine if you did like him. But you don’t, and that’s what’s been bothering me. Why would you go out with this guy that you clearly don’t like when…”

For the first time since you had met him, you think you see Yuta hesitate. As an aspiring rockstar, Yuta always seemed to ooze confidence no matter what he did, whether it was performing a new song on stage or trying to convince you that he can bake cookies without burning the entire complex down. So the way his voice tapers off and the way his eyes shake while he continues to look at you with that unreadable expression is a foreign sight to you. It makes you want to go to him, to be nearer to him, but you opt to stay in place as always.

To your surprise though, you’re the first to break the silence. You realize that you had been holding your breath. “...When what?”

“When I’m right here.”

You aren’t quite sure what you had expected him to say, but it definitely wasn’t that. The four words, so simple and concise, seem to take ages to process in your head. Are you dreaming? Did you actually fall asleep earlier and this is just some cruel trick your subconscious is playing on you? Does he know the meaning of his words? In your daze, you don’t realize that Yuta has made his way to you, and you nearly gasp when you feel how close he is-- it’s the closest you’ve ever been to him. Though he’s not touching you, you feel the warmth of his body, and for once, you let yourself stay.

“Yuta…” you start, but you’re at a loss for what to say.

“Or have I been imagining this whole year? I… I care so much about you, daisy,” Yuta says earnestly. The way he says his nickname for you is so tender, so sincere, and you realize that this is real. This is happening. “I know we haven’t said anything out loud, but I just thought that we were both feeling something. Was it just me?”

You quickly shake your head, and something in you is courageous enough to take his hand in yours. “I felt it too. I just… I just didn’t want to lose you.”

“Baby, you have me.” There it is again: that breathtaking smile that somehow eases all your worries while also being the very source of them. Slowly, you smile back, unable to process all the emotions rushing through you, and you only realize that you’re crying when Yuta reaches up his free hand to softly wipe your tears away with his thumb. He can’t help but chuckle fondly at the sight of you, and that’s when he says it. “I love you.”

At the moment, you know the only feeling that really matters is the one that you share with him. You sniffle. “I love you, too.” And with that, all of Yuta’s hesitation disappears. He pulls you to him and fits his lips over yours, as though they were meant to be there all this time. You instantly press closer, unable to get enough of the sweet kisses that you must have imagined a hundred times over. You definitely prefer the real thing.

You’re sure time feels different when it’s spent around Changkyun.

It feels as light as a leaf on a stream, as powerful as a strike of lightning. It passes by quickly, sometimes way too quick to savor; and it passes by slowly, almost slow enough for you to touch. It feels like the rush that comes from tempting fate and savoring limits, like the sudden drop of a rollercoaster; and it feels like a deja vu that produces the dreamiest tenderness. It’s warm, hot against your skin like a hug under the midday sun; and it’s cool, fresh like the rain that finally came with summer.

Time spent with Changkyun is an experience that requires constant discovery as much as it’s a walk down memory lane, touch igniting a fire that, time after time, threatens to consume you. Bit by bit, completely and mercilessly, burning down to the depths of your soul. It’s mouthwatering, the way he makes you feel like the biggest prize yet to be won and his most carefully guarded treasure at the same time; making sure to trail every inch of your skin while never telling you exactly how he feels.

You’ve never needed him to, anyways, because, even now, you’re not completely sure about the way you feel about him. Still, even if you were, you’re not sure you’d ever tell him.

Part of what came with Changkyun feeling like a dream was not knowing if he was real. Not knowing if he would stay, or simply fade into yet another memory the moment you allowed yourself to dream of everything that could be. And even if it hurt knowing he wasn’t completely there, thinking of him not being there at all always hurt the most.

“I’m glad you convinced him to come,” Minhyuk says, voice breaking you out from your thoughts. “I’m pretty sure Kihyun and I asked him like 500 times before he left the group chat and blocked our numbers. We live with him, though.”

It snaps you back to reality, and you see Changkyun standing near, back turned to you, eyes set on the breaking waves. His hair, longer than the last time you saw him, is rustled by the breeze, and his hands are nestled deep in the pockets of his hoodie. He doesn’t move, but your heart is beating a thousand beats per second by the mere thought of him ever turning around. Of locking eyes with you.

“I did not convince him,” you answer, rolling your eyes when Minhyuk sets his eyes on his friend. “Maybe your bathroom post-it notes got to him in the end. Gotta applaud you for your patience.”

“He literally never read those. He said he was coming the minute you said you were too, but if you want to call it a coincidence, I’ll just go along with it.”

“We’re not even friends, Minhyuk,” you try, shaking your head as the boy chews, loudly, on a bunch of sour skittles. “He’s your best friend, he obviously came for you. And Kihyun, and his bank account. And… probably also Hyungwon’s special lattes.”

“No one drinks Hyungwon’s lattes unless they want to solve an indigestion issue, really,” Minhyuk laughs, shaking the bag of sweets as if offering some. You don’t accept, no doubt they’re Ivy’s, and you’d very much rather not be an accomplice of Minhyuk stealing his partner’s sweets. “And come on, I’m not stupid. I’ve seen the way you look at each other, and though cute, it’s DISGUSTINGLY obvious.”

“We don’t look at each other in any particular way,” you try to retort, but know it’s not really amounting to anything the moment he lets out a laugh. “Hey, really. We get together to study sometimes, and I see him whenever he tags along when you visit Ivy. I don’t even have his number saved.”

“But Ivy told me he texts you everyday!”

“Ivy tells you everything, don’t they?” You say, laughing when Minhyuk smiles at the thought of his partner, and you’re sure that you’re doomed if the look in your eyes when thinking of Changkyun is even remotely similar to Minhyuk’s when thinking of Ivy. “Okay, okay, you win. I have him saved, but I won’t tell you as what.”

“That’s for you to know, and hopefully, for me to never find out,” he says, laughing with you.

You’re not sure if it’s your laugh, or Minhyuk’s, or just him breaking out of his own daze, but Changkyun turns back to look at you. He raises one of his hands, previously in his pocket, into a greeting, and finally smiles when you return it. And it shakes you down to your core, because he smiles wholeheartedly, and carefree, and if you weren’t too afraid to admit your own feelings for him, perhaps you’d even say he smiles at you with something much stronger than a simple friendship.

“See, that’s what I mean,” Minhyuk says next to you. He looks over at you from the corner of his eye, smirking as he begins to walk away. His back is turned to you, but his words are still as clear as they can be. “You make him happy. I’ve never seen him smile like that with anyone before.”

So you smile back, stomach in a whirl that feels like butterflies setting flight, letting you ground yourself into the present moment while the entire world around you disappears. In that moment, there’s only you, and Changkyun, and the sea. He’s there, with you, and somehow, it feels like he’s there to stay.

Seungcheol had never been hard to read.

From the very first moment you’d met, you’d seen he always wore his heart on his sleeve. You liked that about him; the way you could tell how he was feeling by paying attention to the size of his smile and the gleam in his eyes. For a while, you wondered if he was like that when only you were there to see. A sort of prize won after confidence, the kind that came with a great deal of trust. Your heart always leapt at the thought; of Seungcheol trusting you enough to let his walls down, of letting you in with such ease you’d wonder if he just wasn’t afraid of ever getting hurt… not by you, but by the world.

After a while, you finally came to see it wasn’t quite like that. Seungcheol just trusted people. Not only his friends (which you were at the time) or the people closest to him, but the strangers he passed by on the street. The people he ran into at the store. The men he made business with, the bands he came to meet, the fans he saw from afar. It was a beautiful thought, Seungcheol having a heart so big there was no sort of mistrust in it; but it was also a scary one, because you knew the world to be cruel. You knew the world to be undeserving of him.

“He’s gonna fall down on his ass,” Mingyu speaks next to you, a hand in the pocket of his torn up leather jacket and the other holding a cigarette. “Part of me wants you to tell him to come down but the other part wants revenge from him waking me up at 5 today.”

“You guys had a gig,” you laugh, taking a sip from your cup. It’s run cold, but the beverage leaves a sweet aftertaste on the back of your tongue, so you keep drinking. Summer is just around the corner anyways. “Not to defend him, but, you know.”

“Oh no, not you too,” Mingyu whines, throwing his head back as he speaks. He’s always reminded you of Seungcheol, and you wonder if that’s why the two seem to clash together so much. “The gig was at noon, no need to see the rise of dawn and scare my sleep away with Chan’s sleeping mask.”

“Oh, fuck you!” You hear from the back of the yard, Chan’s voice somehow louder than the playing vinyl.

His laughter, followed by Mingyu’s quiet giggle and the careless strum of a guitar, brings a smile on your lips.

Night has barely begun to fall down. The sky is tinged bubblegum pink and the clouds have started to change color, adorning the afternoon sky in an array of orange shades. It’s the moment before it starts turning down, but even when the light threatens to decrease, temperature only but rises. It’s a warm summer afternoon, with friends laughing at the top of their longs and music playing as soft background music, setting the scene even when the melody runs ignored.

It had been a while since you last had spent time with the band. They had just gone on their first big world tour and were just getting welcomed back home, and you can swear there’s something about finally knowing the world that allows their smiles to grow a little bit wider. It’s as if they’ve collected happiness at every spot, experiences turned into emotion as they let themselves completely feel every single moment. It’s as if they let their hearts be free once they’ve known how it is to let their bodies do the same.

“Why did he even get up there, anyways?” You ask, taking a sip from your punch glass. It’s sweet and cool against the growing heat.

“Seungkwan and Hoshi dared him,” Mingyu answers, smiling when Soonyoung tries to excuse his actions, yelling about some book incident involving Cheol and Jun. “Can’t believe he’s about to fall on his face in front of you for a slice of cheese pizza, though.”

“It’s a matter of honor!” Seungcheol exclaims between jolts of laughter, fingers forming a peace sign as Joshua pulls his portable camera out of his bag and points it at him. “Wait, what is this for?”

He tries to pose as he stands over a wobbly table, one of his hands holding a glass of pink colored punch and the other pointing to the camera while he tries to keep still for however long it takes Joshua to focus the lens. The guitarist isn’t the best at photographs, but his enthusiasm makes up for the lack of skill.

“Ivy and Jun are doing some groovy memory thing,” he explains, breaking into a laugh, shrugging in the direction of the couple. “Don’t worry, I’ll document every step of the process.”

Your boyfriend’s mouth opens wide at Joshua’s words, the peace sign in his hand quickly becoming a single pointed finger, eyes blazing as he moves his hand in the air.

“As soon as these fifteen minutes are up I’m getting down from here,” Seungcheol says, each word enunciated in the form of a loud whine, a pout forming on his lips as he berates his friend. “Be sure to document the slice of pizza in my mouth, Bob Dylan!”

“That would be so fucking gross,” Minghao comments from the hammock, a pair of pastel yellow sunglasses resting on the tip of his nose. “Trust me, no one would ever want to see that.”

“And Josh wishes he was Bob Dylan!” Mingyu laughs.

“I bet you wish you got the riff today right, tho,” Chan teases, another fit of laughter ensuing. Mingyu responds, and Minghao giggles.

Seungcheol turns to see his friends from where he’s standing, chest growing tight at the sight. It’s his family, after all, reunited and relaxed after what was, probably, the start to a lifelong adventure. You meet him halfway, smiling as you point the glass of punch in his direction in a silent cheer. It’s your family as much as it’s his, and there’s a sense of pride growing in the center of your stomach as you realize what an honor it is to be a part of it.

He smiles, and it doesn’t really seem like he’s all the way across the yard on top of a table that threatens to break down, because he’s truly never felt closer to you.

…

Hours later, the pizza discussion has quieted and night has finally fallen down.

Seungcheol ended up not falling, breaking literally everyone but Ivy, Jun, and your expectations, but earning Joshua quite a groovy photo (he had almost fallen down, after all). The beginning of the entire thing is still a bit of a mystery to you, but with the information you’ve been given, you’re not completely sure you’d actually want to know. After all, the entire fifteen minutes had given you a good laugh and a lifetime of worries, all at the same time.

“Here,” Seungcheol’s voice breaks you apart from your thoughts. He’s holding a yellow ceramic cup full of steaming tea, arm stretched in your direction. “Can you believe Seungkwan was trying to hide his Earl Gray from me?”

“Actually, yeah, I can,” you answer as you laugh, taking the cup from Seungcheol’s hands while he sits on the grass next to you. “You don’t even drink tea.”

“No, but he knows you do,” he says. He speaks as if he’s telling you a secret, words low, soft against the wind, entering your ears like honey as your lips curl up into a smile.

Seungcheol’s gentleness is present in every thought, in every gesture. It’s in the thinking of you to ensure your comfort, the going out of his way to make you happy, that lets you know he treats your happiness like he’s guarding a flower that’s just about to bloom. He touches it with the tips of his fingers, caring for it and nurturing it, helping your smile grow by the day. A smile directed at him.

“And yet he guards it from the both of us,” you say, raising the cup to your lips and taking a small sip. It’s sweet, a bit too sweet, perhaps, but the saccharine taste feels like velvet against your tongue, so you continue drinking. You’ve always liked sweet things, and Seungcheol has always known. “Are you not gonna have anything?”

“Seungkwan’s coffee brew and my stomach aren’t really the best of friends,” he jokes, eyes fixed on the midnight sky. “Not after last time, at least. The good thing about the tour was that all the coffee we got was made by other people.”

“Hey, he takes a lot of pride in his coffee brew!”

“That doesn’t make it any lighter!”

He doesn’t quite remember just how long it’s been since he’s taken a second to stop and breathe in like he’s doing now, the feeling of laying down without a worry having been completely alienated. It’s like he’s always on track; always moving here or there, physically or in thought, and stopping finally means letting his thoughts lay down too. He lets himself feel every inch of the warm breeze hitting his skin and rustling his hair, enjoying every second of finally watching the stars shine bright above his head.

Seungcheol is always hearing Jun talk about just how much he likes looking at the stars, and now he finally understands.

“Hey, look up there,” Seungcheol whispers, nudging your shoulder with his and pointing to the sky with his finger. You’re not sure he’s drawing your attention to any spot in particular, and, to be honest, neither is he. “It reminds me of you.”

“What exactly are you looking at?” You ask, and it’s somewhere between a laugh and a question, but he doesn’t comment on it. He’s always loved the way you talk, because, even if for a second, he feels like happiness drips from every pore. “You’re pointing at like, at least five different stars right now.”

“Yeah, that’s what I mean. You’re each and every single one of them. You’re there with me, lightning my path with every step I take.”

You’re not sure, but you’d think that’s the moment the world stops spinning, because it’s just the two of you; it’s just you and Seungcheol, and your warm cup of tea, and the crazed laughter of your friends flows through the air like the background scene of a film you’ll watch over, and over, and over again. It’s like the moment and his words become etched so deep inside your heart they become a part of who you are, and of who you will always be, because there’s nothing that encompasses happiness better than the love you and Seungcheol hold for each other.

“Are you coming for Jun’s job now?” You ask, voice breaking as tears begin to prickle your eyes.

“Should we switch places?” Seungcheol follows, letting himself fall completely on his back, feeling the grass grazing against the soft linen of his purple button-up. His tone is light, relaxed. Gentle. “I’m pretty sure Jun could make for a convincing business man.”

“Yes, I’m pretty sure he would. He’s different now, isn’t he? He feels a bit more confident. A bit more secure.”

“Love does that to you, I guess. It makes you believe in yourself, because you know someone else does it too.”

And it’s just so much of a feeling growing inside your chest that you’re sure this is exactly where you’re meant to be, and Seungcheol is exactly who you’re meant to be with. You look at your surroundings, and he’s nestled so deep within your soul it’s almost like he’s everywhere. Every single place, every single sound, every single scent; he's everything.

“Can I have this dance?”

He moves, rustling in place as he extends his hand over to you.

“You can have all of them.”

It’s almost like it’s your thoughts speaking, voices intertwining, souls coming together. He takes your hand in his and you follow his lead as he stands up, pulling you to his chest with such gentleness in his touch it feels like you’re made of glass. He doesn’t move for a few seconds, but you don’t really think he needs to, because as soon as his fingers tangle with yours, it’s almost like you’re flying.

Somewhere in the garden, sitting around a campfire, Joshua and Mingyu’s guitars begin playing a song you both know, and you barely notice the moment your feet start moving. They dance on their own accord, gliding over the grass in a pace that doesn’t quite match the one set by the instruments, but neither of you fight it. He tightens the grip on your fingers and sets them over his chest, moving in closer to your frame.

You can feel him in what’s almost a hug by how close you’re standing, and it’s only when Joshua and Mingyu begin singing that you move your head up to take a look at him. The melody is sweet, raising into the sky over the crackling of a roaring fire. Dark, thick wisps of hair fall against his forehead and over the golden frame of his glasses, completely rustled by the summer breeze. You know it’s only a matter of time before he’ll try to tussle it back against his head, no doubt counterproductive, further messing up his (once) carefully gelled hairstyle.

He looks just the way he did when you last saw him before the tour, and, in a way, he looks a completely different person. There’s a sense of growth, of experience, of adventure nestling in his smile and yet, the look in his eyes expresses just as much love for you as it’s always done.

“I missed you,” he says, words soft against your skin.

He pulls you in even closer, lips coming into contact with your forehead. He presses a kiss; light, soft, gentle. And yet loving, lingering. It’s an expression of a love that doesn’t quite pressure to grow, that doesn’t quite define itself by the closeness in touch or time. It’s born on the surface, but it travels down so deep it lays untouched by whatever might pose a threat. It blooms, so wildly and fierce, and so close to your own souls it’s shaped them into what they are. It’s what you are, and you can feel it dripping down your very self whenever you’re close. It’s where you’ve found a sense of home.

“I missed you too.”

You smile, letting your forehead rest against his lips. He takes in a breath, closing his eyes. The cup of tea sits long forgotten over the grass, but steam still rises from the top. The liquid lays untouched, unmoving; but still warm.

…

The morning rises, and you’re there to see.

Seungcheol is asleep in the guest room of Seungkwan’s field house, resting calmly beneath the thick duvet you had shared the night before. His arm is still splayed over the space you once occupied, and there’s a smile resting on his lips. His hand is balled into a fist, clutching the soft, velvet sheets. Light begins to seep through the window, filtering through the curtains. A soft ray falls over his face.

In the backyard, you look up at the sky. Once dark, it’s now the most beautiful shade of gold you’ve ever seen. Air runs between the trees, and you can feel it move against your skin. The world starts waking up as you smile, and you can feel every second of it. Joshua and Mingyu sleep calmly on the couch, and Minghao brews his coffee in silence. Ivy reads a book while caressing Jun’s hair, his head resting on their lap. Seungkwan, Soonyoung, Chan and Vernon busy themselves with breakfast, the faint scent of burning toast reaching your nose.