first light
Good morning, sunshine~
He’s curled towards you, 28th storey hotel suite sunlight twisted in his hair the way he’s tangled in your sheets.
Jae-ah.
Stirrings, rustles, yawns. A mess of soft lines and angles you know all too well.
Boo.
Good morning to you too.
You let him nuzzle against your neck and drop your head on his, sleepy heads with tussled hair whispering half-awake words in late morning light, foreign rooms.
We leave in three hours. Have you packed?
He shakes his head and stifles another yawn, sets his legs between yours and pulls you close to say No with a smile that almost makes you say Then I’ll do it. Almost. He dozes on your shoulder and you watch him breathe, watch how he clenches a fistful of the sheets when you touch his hip, fingers splayed over delicate skin.
Aishh, Jae.
Now you see why you’re band leader and not me?
You cross continents with him, fingers laced over airplane seats, testing how beds dip under your combined weights. Paris is cold sunlight, autumn leaves outside your room and his hair matches them, burnt colors gold and red; Los Angeles a city of winking lights even at 2am with him kissing you back to sleep.
And it doesn’t matter you share your bed with him, be it Seoul with it’s familiar shadows, sounds or Bangkok, heat rising in lazy waves curling at your feet because a love like this doesn’t need borders anyway.
Good morning, sunshine. I love you.
[fin]
He’s curled towards you, 28th storey hotel suite sunlight twisted in his hair the way he’s tangled in your sheets.
Jae-ah.
Stirrings, rustles, yawns. A mess of soft lines and angles you know all too well.
Boo.
Good morning to you too.
You let him nuzzle against your neck and drop your head on his, sleepy heads with tussled hair whispering half-awake words in late morning light, foreign rooms.
We leave in three hours. Have you packed?
He shakes his head and stifles another yawn, sets his legs between yours and pulls you close to say No with a smile that almost makes you say Then I’ll do it. Almost. He dozes on your shoulder and you watch him breathe, watch how he clenches a fistful of the sheets when you touch his hip, fingers splayed over delicate skin.
Aishh, Jae.
Now you see why you’re band leader and not me?
You cross continents with him, fingers laced over airplane seats, testing how beds dip under your combined weights. Paris is cold sunlight, autumn leaves outside your room and his hair matches them, burnt colors gold and red; Los Angeles a city of winking lights even at 2am with him kissing you back to sleep.
And it doesn’t matter you share your bed with him, be it Seoul with it’s familiar shadows, sounds or Bangkok, heat rising in lazy waves curling at your feet because a love like this doesn’t need borders anyway.
Good morning, sunshine. I love you.
[fin]