under the light of a thousand stars [i/ii]
Title: under the light of a thousand stars
Pairing: Kai/Kyungsoo
Genre: fluff
Length: 10532w
Summary: Snapshots of Jongin and Kyungsoo's life together (or, Jongin takes literally years to say the thing, and Kyungsoo? Doesn't.) / THIS WAS RUSHED I'M SORRY
i.
Fifty three, fifty four, fifty five.
Rain falls in soft pitter-patters against the hazed up glass of Kyungsoo’s bedroom window. The clouds and the sky he can see through it are painted shades of grey, dull blue, strips of light peeking through where the sun hasn’t given up on its battle against the rain. He watches as a raindrop races down to catch up with its lover, to merge, to continue their journey downwards as one, gravity being their only guide.
Steady breathing behind him tells him his companion isn’t awake yet, but Kyungsoo doesn’t mind. He has a tanned arm slung across his waist, his narrow-shouldered body pressed up against a broader chest, and he links his fingers with his boyfriend’s in contented silence.
One heartbeat, two.
He can feel them all.
He counts them instead of the raindrops.
The covers that blanket his lower body are beginning to grow much too hot, stifling him and pressing moisture onto his skin, and he begins to squirm not five minutes later. His movements seem to rouse the man behind him, and he smiles when he feels a gentle kiss being pressed to the bare skin between his shoulder blades.
‘Morning,’ murmurs Kyungsoo, biting back the laugh that threatens to boil over when the chapped lips of the man behind him mouths a reply against his skin. Morning.
He revels in the feather-light kisses Jongin peppers on his skin, arches his back away when a thought manages to crawl out from a corner of his mind and unveil itself. He feels Jongin’s confusion, rather than hears it.
He doesn’t need to hear Jongin to know what he’s feeling, anymore. He understands it in the way the younger’s breathing hitches, feels it in the way Jongin scoots closer to him, presses their skin together again without a word, and a corner of Kyungsoo’s lips turns up. He laces their fingers together once more, pushes back into Jongin’s warmth, thinking it feels like coming home.
‘When you propose to me, make it big,’ he says, the soft crackle of the morning sinking into the usual smoothness of his voice in hairline fractures. Short bursts of air tickle his skin when Jongin lets out a light laugh.
‘What makes you think I’m going to propose to you?’ asks Jongin, tone teasing. His arm is still tightly wound around Kyungsoo’s waist, his leg still thrown over Kyungsoo’s thigh. Kyungsoo rolls his eyes, even if he knows Jongin can’t see.
‘Could you imagine living life without me?’ he asks, and his voice is steady and knowing, and it makes Jongin prop himself up on one elbow, trail kisses from Kyungsoo’s shoulder all the way up to his jaw.
‘Wouldn’t stand a chance,’ murmurs Jongin, just under Kyungsoo’s ear. He kisses the apple of Kyungsoo’s cheek when it rises with the elder’s smile.
‘That’s what I thought,’ says Kyungsoo, and Jongin rests his head on the elder’s arm, makes a ring out of his index finger and thumb, and slides Kyungsoo’s fourth finger into it.
‘That big enough for you?’ asks Jongin, sly grin on his face.
‘There’s a terrible innuendo somewhere in there, I’m sure,’ says Kyungsoo, shaking Jongin off and rolling, so the latter’s on his back and Kyungsoo’s head is resting on his chest. He walks two fingers up and down Jongin’s ribcage, just barely resists the temptation to dig his fingers into the side of Jongin’s waist and tickle him silly. He walks them back up his chest, draws patterns and words into skin in invisible ink.
‘What’s brought this on?’ Jongin’s voice rumbles in his chest when he speaks. He reaches up to card his fingers through Kyungsoo’s hair.
‘Nothing,’ murmurs Kyungsoo, pulling Jongin’s fingers from his hair to intertwine them with his own. ‘I just - wanted to make sure you’ll do something special, that’s all.’
‘Am I not special enough for you?’ Jongin asks, drawing his body away in a show of fake hurt. Kyungsoo only smiles, pulls his boyfriend closer, aligns the younger’s ear with his heartbeat.
‘You hear that?’ asks Kyungsoo, feeling Jongin’s breath against his skin, the younger’s fingers dancing on his ribcage. ‘Feel how fast that is?’
‘Yeah,’ murmurs Jongin. He begins to tap out a beat on Kyungsoo’s ribs - one that keeps time with the beating inside him. ‘I wonder...’ he says again, before sealing his lips against his boyfriend’s skin.
‘Jongin - what are you doing,’ says Kyungsoo, breathless. Jongin’s lips have kissed him, all over, at least fifty times in every spot imaginable - still, he gets the flutters when that mouth touches him again. Still, there is a spark that ignites, starts small, every time Jongin kisses him. It grows and it burns and, sometimes, Kyungsoo isn’t sure he actually minds.
‘An experiment,’ he murmurs, the words blowing warm against Kyungsoo’s skin. ‘I want to see how fast I can make it go.’
‘Stop,’ says Kyungsoo, gently pushing his boyfriend away. Jongin chuckles and lays with his arms spread, on his back beside Kyungsoo.
‘I only did it because I love you,’ pouts Jongin, rolling on his side to face Kyungsoo. The latter reaches over and pinches Jongin in the side, laughing when a wail and a whimper leaves his boyfriend’s lips.
‘I only did it because I love you,’ says Kyungsoo, laughing again when Jongin sticks his tongue out at him.
‘That hurt,’ Jongin pouts, taking his revenge by throwing himself across Kyungsoo’s abdomen. The sorry that comes out of Kyungsoo’s mouth escapes on a gust of breath, and Jongin laughs into Kyungsoo’s skin when the elder smacks him gently on the side of his head.
‘Special,’ says Kyungsoo, ‘Something big.’ His tone is firm and his brow is set, and even though, from Jongin’s point of view, he should look ridiculous, the folds of his chin gathering at the base of his neck - he doesn’t. Jongin recognises that tone, that one note in his voice that hints at seriousness through his words.
‘Special,’ repeats Jongin, shuffling up so he can bury his face in the crook of his boyfriend’s neck.
‘I can do that.’
ii.
The apartment Kyungsoo lives in, he thinks, is nothing short of perfect. Okay - maybe in the textbook sense it really isn’t, with its peeling paint and squeaky-hinged doors, but for a twenty-four year old man working a nine to five job as an architect at one of the biggest firms in the city - it really isn’t that bad.
Not really, anyway.
It’s got a great view, so whatever.
Kyungsoo shakes his head, dislodges the cobwebs in his mind as his eyes refocus on the plans he’s got drawn up in front of him. Three of his team members had called in sick, suspiciously all at once, a couple of days ago, and now he was left to work on this proposal by himself. To top it all off, the client wanted a sneak peek (which, Kyungsoo reminds himself, his boss says means a full scaled-model tour) of the buildings by the end of next week.
He sighs. It’s just his luck, isn’t it?
He’s about to review the plans one last time before he builds the model when his phone goes off, almost making him jump. He sighs and works out the crick in his neck with one hand as the other reaches for the offending device, eyebrows raising when he sees the number.
Home.
Home. Someone was calling him from his home phone. A small smile hugs his expression - it doesn’t take a genius for him to figure out who it is.
‘What are you doing in my house? This constitutes breaking and entering, I’m sure,’ says Kyungsoo, leaning back as he tries to make his voice sound stern. There’s a muffled chuckle fed down the line to him, and he feels himself melt.
‘Hey,’ says Jongin, and Kyungsoo can hear the sound of something shuffling in the background. ‘Do you know where I put my black belt? Sehun borrowed my other one and now I don’t have anything to wear to my interview.’
‘No, sorry,’ says Kyungsoo, wrinkling his nose. ‘I’d lend you one of mine, but - ’
‘ - The only one you have is the one you’re wearing now, I know,’ huffs Jongin, frustration fuelling his words. ‘Fuck, I’m never lending that idiot anything. Ever.’
Kyungsoo has to bite down on his bottom lip to stop the chuckle that’s building in his throat. ‘Look,’ he says, the word coming out slightly more breathless than he would’ve liked - ‘I’m pretty sure you threw your other pair of pants in the laundry last time we went out. You know - the ones that fit.’
‘Great,’ says Jongin, and Kyungsoo can hear how relief fills his words. ‘Where are they?’
‘At the apartment,’ says Kyungsoo slowly, ‘Your apartment.’
Jongin curses again, and Kyungsoo doesn’t stifle his laugh this time. ‘Soo,’ whines Jongin, ‘I’m going through a crisis here! You’re supposed to play the part of sympathetic supportive boyfriend, not laugh at me!’
‘I’m sorry,’ says Kyungsoo breathlessly. ‘Listen - just breathe out as much as you can and, like, maybe eat a loaf of bread on the way to the interview and your pants will hold up fine.’
‘Kyungsoo.’
‘Well, I mean, hopefully.’
He takes delight in the groan that Jongin lets out, can just picture his boyfriend throwing himself down on the bed in despair. Jongin was usually one for the drama, after all, even if there was nobody there to see it.
True enough, the groan is followed by a resounding thump. Kyungsoo bites his bottom lip.
‘If you stay like that your shirt’s going to get all wrinkled again,’ he says, and there’s another groan followed by the sound of shuffling, and Kyungsoo can’t fight the smile that begins to bloom across his lips.
‘I guess I should go now,’ huffs Jongin. ‘Gonna have to find a way not to drop trou when I get to the damned interview.’
‘Okay, baby,’ says Kyungsoo, soft and gentle this time. ‘Good luck. See you when you get home.’
‘Okay. Thanks, Soo. I love you.’
‘I love you too.’
‘I know.’
‘Fuck off.’
‘That’s no way to talk to the love of your life!’
‘Then it’s a good thing it’s only you I’m talking to.’
‘Hey.’ The single syllable comes out far quieter than the rest of Jongin’s words, and Kyungsoo feels a pang in the middle of his chest. He knows that his boyfriend is aware of how much Kyungsoo adores him - but, he supposes, nobody likes hearing that their affection has been taken away, after all. ‘Take it back,’ he says, and his voice is small, and Kyungsoo presses his lips together through his smile.
He clears his throat. ‘A life without you would be like a broken pencil, my love.’
‘Kyungsoo, stop - ’
‘Pointless.’
Another groan resounds and Kyungsoo laughs out loud this time, draws the attention of his nearest colleagues. He gives them apologetic nods and a sheepish smile, says goodbye to Jongin before properly hanging up and getting back to work.
The next few hours go by without much ceremony, Kyungsoo’s eyes scanning through the plans one last time before he decides they’re good enough to be put in motion, and prints them out big to make the model-building process easier. He gets to work cutting the pieces out and constructing the model, pays extra attention to every little detail as he puts it together.
All around him, lights begin to switch off. Monitors are shut down for the night, chairs roll across the floor, are tucked back into desks. A handful of people give goodbyes and good lucks to Kyungsoo as they pass, only getting a brief nod and a soft thanks, goodnight in reply.
Hours pass and the hands of the clock on the far right wall of the office floor just gets closer and closer to midnight. The floor has all but cleared out by now - the only person left in the office is Kyungsoo, with his materials and his half-finished model on the table before him. His eyes are beginning to droop by now and his fingers are starting to slip - but there’s a part of him that spurs the rest of him on, and he finds himself saying just one more piece with every new part he attaches.
It’s just gone midnight when a sudden burst of light floods his department’s floor. By now his eyes have gone rather squinty and tired, so he doesn’t narrow them when the light breaks into the darkness of his surroundings. There’s a silhouette of a man slotted against the light, and as the man comes closer, Kyungsoo feels the weariness in his bones dissipate.
A light frown mars Jongin’s brow when he approaches Kyungsoo.
‘Hey,’ says Kyungsoo, his voice slightly roughened by hours of disuse. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘I went home and I waited and you never came. I got worried,’ says Jongin softly. He comes up behind Kyungsoo and links his arms across the elder’s waist, lays his hands on his boyfriend’s stomach. ‘Don’t you think it’s time you went home?’
‘I’m almost done here,’ mumbles Kyungsoo, leaning his exhausted body into Jongin’s. He tilts his head to the side, smiles when Jongin burrows his face in the join between his neck and his shoulder. ‘Just give me another five minutes and we’ll head home, okay?’
The okay Jongin murmurs against his skin has butterflies swarming Kyungsoo’s stomach, all the way up to his chest, and they bring with them a fresh wave of energy that has him working twice as quick. Jongin moves away from him to drape himself in a chair, watch from afar as his boyfriend finishes up his work.
It’s fifteen minutes of waiting, fifteen minutes of Kyungsoo throwing little narrations over his shoulder at Jongin, describing what he’s doing, but the younger isn't really listening to him. Jongin wheels his chair around a little bit, skates as quietly as he can in the limited space Kyungsoo's working in, throws the odd oh yeah? and that’s cool at his boyfriend as he works, and he should feel bad, but he knows. He knows Kyungsoo’s just trying to keep himself awake - it doesn’t really matter if Jongin’s listening to him or not.
The last five minutes Jongin spends just sitting back in his chair in one spot, eyes on Kyungsoo, vaguely thinking that the elder has a really cute butt when the latter finally declares that he’s done, and that they can finally head home. There’s some rustling and some shuffling about as Jongin watches his boyfriend clean up and lock up, and then they’re out of the building hand in hand, racing against the late night autumn wind to be able to catch the last train.
‘If we miss it,’ pants Jongin, chest heaving with the effort he puts in to running, ‘I volunteer you as mattress for the night.’
They both let out breathless laughs, fingers still intertwined as they make it to the platform just in time for the train to open its doors. Kyungsoo gets on first, Jongin following behind him. And when the train doors shut and the automated voice announces their departure, Jongin doesn’t hesitate to push Kyungsoo up against closed doors, grin still on his lips. The elder just plays along, tugs at Jongin’s scarf until their faces are a quarter of an inch away from one another’s, and Jongin surges forward to press their lips together, adrenaline from the run they’d just finished still ringing in his ears.
It’s been two years since he’d first started going out with Kyungsoo. Two years since he’d had the courage to ask Kyungsoo out on a more-than-just-friends kind of dinner.
And, standing here, in a train full of nothing but the sound of his own heart beating and with his arms around his whole world - he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to feel this degree of right with anyone else, this degree of belonging with someone other than Kyungsoo.
This is where he belongs - with Kyungsoo.
‘Hey,’ he murmurs, pulling away slightly.
‘Hey what?’ teases Kyungsoo, his eyes still half-closed, his hand still fisted in the front of Jongin’s shirt. Neither of them are sure when it got there, but Kyungsoo doesn’t make any move to get rid of it. He likes holding Jongin close.
‘Hey… Move in with me.’
Kyungsoo’s eyes fly wide open, his grip on Jongin slackening. ‘I… Wait, what?’
‘I’m serious. Move in with me,’ says Jongin, bringing one hand up to brush his fingers against the skin of the elder’s cheek. ‘It makes sense, don’t you think? Being with each other like that, living together - isn’t that something you’d want?’
There’s a pause between when Jongin stops speaking and when Kyungsoo starts, and in that pause, in that silence, the former feels like he should think of minutes stretched into eternities, of moments turning into forevers, but - he doesn’t. All he can think about is the thought of being able to go to sleep with this man every night, about holding him in his arms until he’s drowned in slumber, and that’s…
That’s really all he wants, for now.
Really.
Kyungsoo can see it in his eyes, too.
‘You want me to move in with you?’ he begins, cocking one eyebrow now. He brings his hands away from Jongin, crosses his arms across his chest instead.
‘Well, yeah. Why not?’ Jongin’s voice takes on a defensive shade just then, and the younger’s fingers stop moving across Kyungsoo’s cheek. ‘What’s wrong with that?’
There’s a smile fighting to be let loose, but Kyungsoo wrestles the urge away. Jongin’s got that look on his face that’s so innocently indignant, looks like he’s about to burst if Kyungsoo prods him the wrong way, and, honestly, he loves it.
It’s one of his favourite things about Jongin.
‘I just don’t know how I feel about moving in with you,’ says Kyungsoo, struggling to keep his tone convincing. The automated voice above tells them they’ve arrived at their stop, and Kyungsoo walks right out of the train, a somewhat dumbstruck Jongin following along behind him.
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ asks Jongin, loud enough that they draw looks from the few stragglers left in the underground, but neither of them pay any mind to the onlookers. Kyungsoo takes the steps two at a time, Jongin stomps along with him.
‘It’s just - I don’t really want to,’ Kyungsoo shrugs, taking a deep breath when they finally reach outside. They set off in the direction of his apartment, and Kyungsoo has to bite on his lower lip as Jongin simmers.
They reach Kyungsoo’s apartment complex a few minutes later, Kyungsoo with his shoulders relaxed but the rest of him worn out, Jongin with his hands in his pockets and just the general air of grumpiness surrounding him. The ride up to Kyungsoo’s floor is silent, and when they finally get to his unit, Jongin’s just about ready to burst.
‘Okay - look,’ Jongin blusters, ‘If there’s something about me that you don’t like - ’
‘Your roommate,’ says Kyungsoo calmly, turning his key. ‘I don’t want to move in with you, because you have a roommate.’
‘Oh,’ says Jongin, deflating somewhat. He looks a cross between relieved and extremely confused, and Kyungsoo doesn’t fight the smile that spreads on his lips this time, doesn’t resist the temptation to get on his tiptoes and give Jongin a peck on the cheek.
‘What’s say you move in with me?’ suggests Kyungsoo, pushing the door open and switching the lights on. It’s past one in the morning now, moving closer to two, and he wants to revel in his successful taunting of Jongin, wants to properly take in the dissatisfaction sitting on his boyfriend’s face - but he can’t. It’s like his apartment has a veil of magic over it - he was fine on the train and walking home, but now, in the comfort of his own home, he can properly feel how tired he is. He heads straight to his bedroom and begins to undress, hears rather than sees Jongin come in after him.
‘That… Sounds great,’ says Jongin, his tone still somewhat dumbfounded. He lets Kyungsoo peel most of his clothes off him, lets himself be pushed on the bed and folded under the covers. Kyungsoo buries himself in the warmth of his bed and his boyfriend shortly after, and lets out a sigh of content. He tucks his head under Jongin’s chin and lets his eyes flutter shut, sleep beginning to invade his senses already.
He’s about to nod off when Jongin speaks.
‘Hey, Kyungsoo,’
‘What is it now, Jongin?’
‘I got the job.’
‘Really? That’s great.’
‘Yeah. They said they, um, really liked me.’
Kyungsoo smiles with his eyes still closed, pulls his arm tighter around Jongin’s waist. He darts forward just the slightest and presses a kiss where he knows Jongin’s heart to be, warm and content with his boyfriend in bed with him.
‘Well,’ he murmurs, ‘I can’t blame them. What’s there not to like?’
iii.
‘It’s not a big deal it’s not a big deal it’s not a big deal - ’
‘Dude, it’s like, the hugest fucking deal. Stop kidding yourself.’
‘Sehun, come on! I mean - I tried, okay? That counts for something, right?’
‘Jongin. Come back to reality. For your last anniversary he cooked you a five-course meal.’
‘He knows I can’t cook!’
‘And this is your seventh year anniversary.’
‘That’s why he does all the cooking and I do the cleaning - ’
‘And you’re about to give him a burnt cake. And overcooked pasta.’
Jongin lets out a high pitched wail, throws himself over his sofa as Sehun rolls his eyes. It’s the night of his and Kyungsoo’s anniversary, the first one they’re celebrating in their new apartment. After five years of living together in the old one, they’d finally saved up enough to move to a larger apartment, one that actually had room for them to move around in, and Jongin really wanted to make this celebration special.
So, when Kyungsoo had to head out to work for an emergency, he’d taken the opportunity to start making them a special anniversary dinner. He looked up recipes online, went out and bought all the ingredients, came home and started cooking - only to promptly find out that things don’t always go as perfectly as they do in Jamie Oliver’s kitchen, and he’d had to call Sehun over for moral support.
Which was, he realises now, probably the worst of his evening’s ideas.
‘I can’t believe you’re turning thirty and you still can’t cook pasta right,’ says Sehun loudly, not even looking up from his phone. He’s probably going through work emails, Jongin thinks - it’s hard for him to believe, most days, that his former roommate is steadily working his way up the career ladder over at the finance firm he works at now. Jongin still remembers Sehun stumbling home drunk at all hours wailing at him to let me in, the numbers are all spinning when the younger couldn’t remember the access code to their apartment.
Jongin sighs.
‘I can cook pasta fine, for your information,’ he says, his voice muffled. ‘It’s just that I was panicking because the cake was catching fire, and I forgot about the cooking. Okay?’
Sehun shrugs. ‘If you say so.’
‘I do,’ says Jongin, rather immaturely, he knows, but he doesn’t care. Right now the thing he cares about most is Kyungsoo coming home not only to a mess in his brand new kitchen, but to a big fat nothing for dinner. He lets out another sigh, this one longer and louder than the one before, and Sehun almost takes off his sock to ball it up and throw it at him.
‘Look - just take him out, okay? It’s not a big deal. You don’t have to do all this made with love shit. Come on,’ he says. ‘There are maybe fifty nice restaurants you could take him to, ones that’ll serve you good champagne, and I know he’ll love it just as much as he’d love your burnt cake and overcooked pasta, I’m sure.’
‘Okay,’ says Jongin, and Sehun huffs as he starts looking up places for them to eat on his phone. He rattles off name after name, Jongin rejecting each one in turn with comments like too stuffy, or too fancy or too many people go there. Sehun grows more and more exasperated with each name he reads off, until he finally gets to one that has Jongin’s ears pricking up in interest.
‘What was that last one?’
‘The Foundry?’
The name brings with it memories Jongin hasn’t thought about in a long time, and it makes a smile pull at his lips. ‘I took him there for our first anniversary,’ he says, fondly reminiscing about how nervous he was, how much he’d kicked himself for not buying Kyungsoo chocolates when the elder had brought him some of his own, remembers thinking how irrelevant all of that was when, at the end of the night, he got to go home to Kyungsoo’s apartment, got to wrap himself around one of the most precious things in the world to him.
‘Book it,’ he says, and he’s sure he hears Sehun grumble something about how I’m not your fucking personal assistant, but he doesn’t care. He has the chance to salvage his evening, so he will.
Sehun leaves an hour or so later, nodding at the thanks! Jongin hollers at him, lets himself out. Jongin sets to work cleaning up the disaster he had unleashed upon the kitchen, scrubbing surfaces until they gleam again, washing up everything he can get his hands on. He gets the place looking decent again and decides that it’s probably time for him to get ready, and texts Kyungsoo to tell him to meet him at the restaurant.
Dinner is a quiet affair, one that’s laced with love and with intimacy, Jongin having managed to get them a table in the corner of the restaurant. Kyungsoo looks a little haggard and worse for wear when he first walks in, but the tiredness in his eyes fades somewhat when he catches sight of Jongin, smiling, waiting for him in his seat. They order and they talk and they touch and they eat, and all the nerves Jongin had had throughout the day have disappeared, vanished with every smile Kyungsoo draws on his lips and every laugh the younger gets from his boyfriend.
When they step outside they’re greeted with semi-silent streets and dimmed streetlights. Kyungsoo presses his lips together and takes Jongin’s hand in his own, brings it up to kiss it softly, only tenderness to be seen in the action.
It brings a smile to Jongin’s lips. ‘Hey,’ he says, quietly, drawing Kyungsoo closer to him, hands settling on the elder’s waist.
‘Hey what?’ asks Kyungsoo, tilting his head to the side.
‘Hey, I love you,’ says Jongin, staring fondly into his boyfriend’s eyes.
‘Really? How much?’ challenges Kyungsoo, and Jongin laughs this time, laughs and pulls Kyungsoo flush against him, so the elder’s ear is on his heartbeat and his nose is buried in his hair.
‘So much,’ he says, softly, just loud enough so Kyungsoo can hear. ‘So much.’
Kyungsoo smiles to himself, breathes in the scent of Jongin all around him, thinks he never wants to let go of this, ever. ‘I adore you,’ he says, and he looks up and Jongin’s already looking at him, and when they kiss - when they kiss, it’s electric and it’s a slow burn and it’s a sudden midnight breeze dancing around their heads - and it’s right, it’s just so, so right.
Kyungsoo is the one who pulls away, hand still latched on the back of Jongin’s neck, thinking that no matter what happens, no matter how much time has passed - how right this feels - it isn’t going to change.
Jongin will always be right for him.
iv.
Going to the park in the middle of winter probably isn’t such a good idea, but Jongin lets himself be dragged outside anyway, Kyungsoo taking the lead. Snow has settled on the ground and makes it slick for them to walk through, but Kyungsoo soldiers on, Jongin following close behind him.
‘This isn’t exactly how I wanted to spend my 32nd birthday, Kyungsoo,’ grumbles Jongin, when snow starts to get into his boots and his socks begin to get wet. ‘What was wrong with staying inside, again?’
‘You need fresh air,’ says Kyungsoo, dusting snow off one of the park benches for him and Jongin to sit on. ‘Your bones are getting old, it’s not good for you to keep yourself locked up and stationary all day. That’s how you get all creaky,’
‘Says you,’ mumbles Jongin, sighing with relief when Kyungsoo finally gets done dusting. They settle themselves down, and Kyungsoo lays his head on Jongin’s shoulders, threads their fingers together on his lap. Now this - this, Jongin didn’t mind doing. Sure - outside in the freezing cold might not be ideal - but as long as he’s with Kyungsoo, he doesn’t think he can bring himself to mind as much.
He’s just about to settle into the comfortable silence that cradles him and Kyungsoo when something hard catches him on his knee, shoots pain into it that travels right up his thigh. ‘Ah!’ he gasps, shrugging Kyungsoo off as he brings his leg up, rests his foot on the bench so he can massage the pained area a little bit.
‘Jongin, what’s wr - ’
‘Hey mister? Are you alright?’ shrieks a child, voice high and piercing as it approaches the couple. The origin of the voice is a little boy - messy dark hair at attention for the wind, bright blue coat covered in specks of white. With him he brings another little boy - one with a beanie over his ears, his eyes just barely peeking out from under it.
‘We’re really sorry!’ blurts the boy with the beanie, rushing forward to bow to the couple, holding his body at a perfect right angle. ‘We didn’t mean to hit you!’ he says, words directed at the ground. The other boy catches up and mimics his friend’s pose, and Kyungsoo laughs quietly to himself when he spots the source of his boyfriend’s pain: a toy airplane, roughly the length of his forearm, its red paint easily spotted against the brown and white of the ground.
He reaches for it. ‘Is this yours?’ he asks, trying his best to keep his tone friendly. Both boys spring up at once, the messy-haired one holding up both his hands above his head to receive the toy. Kyungsoo chuckles, puts it in his hands. ‘Here you go,’ he says gently, keeping the smile on his face.
‘Thanks!’ say the boys, at the same time, the one with the messy hair running back the way he came. His friend is about to follow him - but stops, turns towards Jongin now, and presses his lips together.
‘We’re really, really sorry, mister,’ he murmurs, guilt dragging heavy on his words. By now the pain has ebbed away, and Jongin can’t really find it in his heart to be mad at the kid. He said sorry, after all.
‘It’s okay,’ says Jongin, smiling gently as he reaches out and tugs the beanie a little further up the boy’s face, just enough so his field of vision isn’t obscured by it. ‘I know you meant no harm. Now go find your friend, I bet he’s a better pilot than you are!’
‘No way!’ says the boy, his voice climbing a couple of pitches out of excitement, and then he turns around and he’s gone. Jongin and Kyungsoo both watch as he rejoins his friend, twin smiles blooming on their faces when they see the boys hop up and down in excitement, run, and try to get the plane to fly again.
‘I want one,’ says Jongin, sort of wistfully, sort of seriously. His eyes follow the boys’ movements as they run in tandem and subsequently fall over, a little chuckle tumbling out of his mouth. When he turns to look at Kyungsoo, he finds the elder already looking at him, the intensity of his eyes enough to fold the skin of his forehead into creases. ‘What?’
‘The boy or an airplane?’ asks Kyungsoo, and it should be ridiculous, hearing someone ask someone else that so seriously - but Jongin takes in Kyungsoo’s demeanour, the serious set of his mouth, and decides to swallow another laugh.
‘Um - boy?’ he tries, his tone teetering incredulous. Kyungsoo immediately relaxes, a grin threatening to split his face in half.
‘You want - you want a baby?’ he asks, hand landing on Jongin’s thigh, squeezing it in his excitement. ‘For - real?’
‘Well, yeah,’ says Jongin gently, hand coming up to caress his boyfriend’s cheek. ‘I mean - it isn’t going to be easy - seeing as, you know, we aren’t married, and all, but…’ Jongin’s voice trails off, the words drowning in Kyungsoo’s eyes. They’re the most marvellous shade of soft brown he’s ever seen, that’s true - but they’re also almost always filled with love, and Jongin wants to see that beauty bloom, wants to see if he can help make that kind of beauty grow in another person, with Kyungsoo by his side.
‘But?’ prompts Kyungsoo.
Jongin brushes the hair out of Kyungsoo’s face, leans up to kiss his boyfriend’s forehead. ‘I’d rather do difficult with you than easy with anyone else,’ he murmurs, gently pressing their foreheads together. Kyungsoo’s eyes flutter shut, the elder’s hand laying itself on the back of Jongin’s neck, pulling him in for a kiss.
‘A family,’ says Kyungsoo, against Jongin’s lips. ‘You want to start a family with me?’
‘Well - if that’s okay with you.’
Kyungsoo smiles, tilts forward to bury his face in Jongin’s chest.
‘I’ve never heard of anything more okay than that.’
// two
Pairing: Kai/Kyungsoo
Genre: fluff
Length: 10532w
Summary: Snapshots of Jongin and Kyungsoo's life together (or, Jongin takes literally years to say the thing, and Kyungsoo? Doesn't.) / THIS WAS RUSHED I'M SORRY
i.
Fifty three, fifty four, fifty five.
Rain falls in soft pitter-patters against the hazed up glass of Kyungsoo’s bedroom window. The clouds and the sky he can see through it are painted shades of grey, dull blue, strips of light peeking through where the sun hasn’t given up on its battle against the rain. He watches as a raindrop races down to catch up with its lover, to merge, to continue their journey downwards as one, gravity being their only guide.
Steady breathing behind him tells him his companion isn’t awake yet, but Kyungsoo doesn’t mind. He has a tanned arm slung across his waist, his narrow-shouldered body pressed up against a broader chest, and he links his fingers with his boyfriend’s in contented silence.
One heartbeat, two.
He can feel them all.
He counts them instead of the raindrops.
The covers that blanket his lower body are beginning to grow much too hot, stifling him and pressing moisture onto his skin, and he begins to squirm not five minutes later. His movements seem to rouse the man behind him, and he smiles when he feels a gentle kiss being pressed to the bare skin between his shoulder blades.
‘Morning,’ murmurs Kyungsoo, biting back the laugh that threatens to boil over when the chapped lips of the man behind him mouths a reply against his skin. Morning.
He revels in the feather-light kisses Jongin peppers on his skin, arches his back away when a thought manages to crawl out from a corner of his mind and unveil itself. He feels Jongin’s confusion, rather than hears it.
He doesn’t need to hear Jongin to know what he’s feeling, anymore. He understands it in the way the younger’s breathing hitches, feels it in the way Jongin scoots closer to him, presses their skin together again without a word, and a corner of Kyungsoo’s lips turns up. He laces their fingers together once more, pushes back into Jongin’s warmth, thinking it feels like coming home.
‘When you propose to me, make it big,’ he says, the soft crackle of the morning sinking into the usual smoothness of his voice in hairline fractures. Short bursts of air tickle his skin when Jongin lets out a light laugh.
‘What makes you think I’m going to propose to you?’ asks Jongin, tone teasing. His arm is still tightly wound around Kyungsoo’s waist, his leg still thrown over Kyungsoo’s thigh. Kyungsoo rolls his eyes, even if he knows Jongin can’t see.
‘Could you imagine living life without me?’ he asks, and his voice is steady and knowing, and it makes Jongin prop himself up on one elbow, trail kisses from Kyungsoo’s shoulder all the way up to his jaw.
‘Wouldn’t stand a chance,’ murmurs Jongin, just under Kyungsoo’s ear. He kisses the apple of Kyungsoo’s cheek when it rises with the elder’s smile.
‘That’s what I thought,’ says Kyungsoo, and Jongin rests his head on the elder’s arm, makes a ring out of his index finger and thumb, and slides Kyungsoo’s fourth finger into it.
‘That big enough for you?’ asks Jongin, sly grin on his face.
‘There’s a terrible innuendo somewhere in there, I’m sure,’ says Kyungsoo, shaking Jongin off and rolling, so the latter’s on his back and Kyungsoo’s head is resting on his chest. He walks two fingers up and down Jongin’s ribcage, just barely resists the temptation to dig his fingers into the side of Jongin’s waist and tickle him silly. He walks them back up his chest, draws patterns and words into skin in invisible ink.
‘What’s brought this on?’ Jongin’s voice rumbles in his chest when he speaks. He reaches up to card his fingers through Kyungsoo’s hair.
‘Nothing,’ murmurs Kyungsoo, pulling Jongin’s fingers from his hair to intertwine them with his own. ‘I just - wanted to make sure you’ll do something special, that’s all.’
‘Am I not special enough for you?’ Jongin asks, drawing his body away in a show of fake hurt. Kyungsoo only smiles, pulls his boyfriend closer, aligns the younger’s ear with his heartbeat.
‘You hear that?’ asks Kyungsoo, feeling Jongin’s breath against his skin, the younger’s fingers dancing on his ribcage. ‘Feel how fast that is?’
‘Yeah,’ murmurs Jongin. He begins to tap out a beat on Kyungsoo’s ribs - one that keeps time with the beating inside him. ‘I wonder...’ he says again, before sealing his lips against his boyfriend’s skin.
‘Jongin - what are you doing,’ says Kyungsoo, breathless. Jongin’s lips have kissed him, all over, at least fifty times in every spot imaginable - still, he gets the flutters when that mouth touches him again. Still, there is a spark that ignites, starts small, every time Jongin kisses him. It grows and it burns and, sometimes, Kyungsoo isn’t sure he actually minds.
‘An experiment,’ he murmurs, the words blowing warm against Kyungsoo’s skin. ‘I want to see how fast I can make it go.’
‘Stop,’ says Kyungsoo, gently pushing his boyfriend away. Jongin chuckles and lays with his arms spread, on his back beside Kyungsoo.
‘I only did it because I love you,’ pouts Jongin, rolling on his side to face Kyungsoo. The latter reaches over and pinches Jongin in the side, laughing when a wail and a whimper leaves his boyfriend’s lips.
‘I only did it because I love you,’ says Kyungsoo, laughing again when Jongin sticks his tongue out at him.
‘That hurt,’ Jongin pouts, taking his revenge by throwing himself across Kyungsoo’s abdomen. The sorry that comes out of Kyungsoo’s mouth escapes on a gust of breath, and Jongin laughs into Kyungsoo’s skin when the elder smacks him gently on the side of his head.
‘Special,’ says Kyungsoo, ‘Something big.’ His tone is firm and his brow is set, and even though, from Jongin’s point of view, he should look ridiculous, the folds of his chin gathering at the base of his neck - he doesn’t. Jongin recognises that tone, that one note in his voice that hints at seriousness through his words.
‘Special,’ repeats Jongin, shuffling up so he can bury his face in the crook of his boyfriend’s neck.
‘I can do that.’
ii.
The apartment Kyungsoo lives in, he thinks, is nothing short of perfect. Okay - maybe in the textbook sense it really isn’t, with its peeling paint and squeaky-hinged doors, but for a twenty-four year old man working a nine to five job as an architect at one of the biggest firms in the city - it really isn’t that bad.
Not really, anyway.
It’s got a great view, so whatever.
Kyungsoo shakes his head, dislodges the cobwebs in his mind as his eyes refocus on the plans he’s got drawn up in front of him. Three of his team members had called in sick, suspiciously all at once, a couple of days ago, and now he was left to work on this proposal by himself. To top it all off, the client wanted a sneak peek (which, Kyungsoo reminds himself, his boss says means a full scaled-model tour) of the buildings by the end of next week.
He sighs. It’s just his luck, isn’t it?
He’s about to review the plans one last time before he builds the model when his phone goes off, almost making him jump. He sighs and works out the crick in his neck with one hand as the other reaches for the offending device, eyebrows raising when he sees the number.
Home.
Home. Someone was calling him from his home phone. A small smile hugs his expression - it doesn’t take a genius for him to figure out who it is.
‘What are you doing in my house? This constitutes breaking and entering, I’m sure,’ says Kyungsoo, leaning back as he tries to make his voice sound stern. There’s a muffled chuckle fed down the line to him, and he feels himself melt.
‘Hey,’ says Jongin, and Kyungsoo can hear the sound of something shuffling in the background. ‘Do you know where I put my black belt? Sehun borrowed my other one and now I don’t have anything to wear to my interview.’
‘No, sorry,’ says Kyungsoo, wrinkling his nose. ‘I’d lend you one of mine, but - ’
‘ - The only one you have is the one you’re wearing now, I know,’ huffs Jongin, frustration fuelling his words. ‘Fuck, I’m never lending that idiot anything. Ever.’
Kyungsoo has to bite down on his bottom lip to stop the chuckle that’s building in his throat. ‘Look,’ he says, the word coming out slightly more breathless than he would’ve liked - ‘I’m pretty sure you threw your other pair of pants in the laundry last time we went out. You know - the ones that fit.’
‘Great,’ says Jongin, and Kyungsoo can hear how relief fills his words. ‘Where are they?’
‘At the apartment,’ says Kyungsoo slowly, ‘Your apartment.’
Jongin curses again, and Kyungsoo doesn’t stifle his laugh this time. ‘Soo,’ whines Jongin, ‘I’m going through a crisis here! You’re supposed to play the part of sympathetic supportive boyfriend, not laugh at me!’
‘I’m sorry,’ says Kyungsoo breathlessly. ‘Listen - just breathe out as much as you can and, like, maybe eat a loaf of bread on the way to the interview and your pants will hold up fine.’
‘Kyungsoo.’
‘Well, I mean, hopefully.’
He takes delight in the groan that Jongin lets out, can just picture his boyfriend throwing himself down on the bed in despair. Jongin was usually one for the drama, after all, even if there was nobody there to see it.
True enough, the groan is followed by a resounding thump. Kyungsoo bites his bottom lip.
‘If you stay like that your shirt’s going to get all wrinkled again,’ he says, and there’s another groan followed by the sound of shuffling, and Kyungsoo can’t fight the smile that begins to bloom across his lips.
‘I guess I should go now,’ huffs Jongin. ‘Gonna have to find a way not to drop trou when I get to the damned interview.’
‘Okay, baby,’ says Kyungsoo, soft and gentle this time. ‘Good luck. See you when you get home.’
‘Okay. Thanks, Soo. I love you.’
‘I love you too.’
‘I know.’
‘Fuck off.’
‘That’s no way to talk to the love of your life!’
‘Then it’s a good thing it’s only you I’m talking to.’
‘Hey.’ The single syllable comes out far quieter than the rest of Jongin’s words, and Kyungsoo feels a pang in the middle of his chest. He knows that his boyfriend is aware of how much Kyungsoo adores him - but, he supposes, nobody likes hearing that their affection has been taken away, after all. ‘Take it back,’ he says, and his voice is small, and Kyungsoo presses his lips together through his smile.
He clears his throat. ‘A life without you would be like a broken pencil, my love.’
‘Kyungsoo, stop - ’
‘Pointless.’
Another groan resounds and Kyungsoo laughs out loud this time, draws the attention of his nearest colleagues. He gives them apologetic nods and a sheepish smile, says goodbye to Jongin before properly hanging up and getting back to work.
The next few hours go by without much ceremony, Kyungsoo’s eyes scanning through the plans one last time before he decides they’re good enough to be put in motion, and prints them out big to make the model-building process easier. He gets to work cutting the pieces out and constructing the model, pays extra attention to every little detail as he puts it together.
All around him, lights begin to switch off. Monitors are shut down for the night, chairs roll across the floor, are tucked back into desks. A handful of people give goodbyes and good lucks to Kyungsoo as they pass, only getting a brief nod and a soft thanks, goodnight in reply.
Hours pass and the hands of the clock on the far right wall of the office floor just gets closer and closer to midnight. The floor has all but cleared out by now - the only person left in the office is Kyungsoo, with his materials and his half-finished model on the table before him. His eyes are beginning to droop by now and his fingers are starting to slip - but there’s a part of him that spurs the rest of him on, and he finds himself saying just one more piece with every new part he attaches.
It’s just gone midnight when a sudden burst of light floods his department’s floor. By now his eyes have gone rather squinty and tired, so he doesn’t narrow them when the light breaks into the darkness of his surroundings. There’s a silhouette of a man slotted against the light, and as the man comes closer, Kyungsoo feels the weariness in his bones dissipate.
A light frown mars Jongin’s brow when he approaches Kyungsoo.
‘Hey,’ says Kyungsoo, his voice slightly roughened by hours of disuse. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘I went home and I waited and you never came. I got worried,’ says Jongin softly. He comes up behind Kyungsoo and links his arms across the elder’s waist, lays his hands on his boyfriend’s stomach. ‘Don’t you think it’s time you went home?’
‘I’m almost done here,’ mumbles Kyungsoo, leaning his exhausted body into Jongin’s. He tilts his head to the side, smiles when Jongin burrows his face in the join between his neck and his shoulder. ‘Just give me another five minutes and we’ll head home, okay?’
The okay Jongin murmurs against his skin has butterflies swarming Kyungsoo’s stomach, all the way up to his chest, and they bring with them a fresh wave of energy that has him working twice as quick. Jongin moves away from him to drape himself in a chair, watch from afar as his boyfriend finishes up his work.
It’s fifteen minutes of waiting, fifteen minutes of Kyungsoo throwing little narrations over his shoulder at Jongin, describing what he’s doing, but the younger isn't really listening to him. Jongin wheels his chair around a little bit, skates as quietly as he can in the limited space Kyungsoo's working in, throws the odd oh yeah? and that’s cool at his boyfriend as he works, and he should feel bad, but he knows. He knows Kyungsoo’s just trying to keep himself awake - it doesn’t really matter if Jongin’s listening to him or not.
The last five minutes Jongin spends just sitting back in his chair in one spot, eyes on Kyungsoo, vaguely thinking that the elder has a really cute butt when the latter finally declares that he’s done, and that they can finally head home. There’s some rustling and some shuffling about as Jongin watches his boyfriend clean up and lock up, and then they’re out of the building hand in hand, racing against the late night autumn wind to be able to catch the last train.
‘If we miss it,’ pants Jongin, chest heaving with the effort he puts in to running, ‘I volunteer you as mattress for the night.’
They both let out breathless laughs, fingers still intertwined as they make it to the platform just in time for the train to open its doors. Kyungsoo gets on first, Jongin following behind him. And when the train doors shut and the automated voice announces their departure, Jongin doesn’t hesitate to push Kyungsoo up against closed doors, grin still on his lips. The elder just plays along, tugs at Jongin’s scarf until their faces are a quarter of an inch away from one another’s, and Jongin surges forward to press their lips together, adrenaline from the run they’d just finished still ringing in his ears.
It’s been two years since he’d first started going out with Kyungsoo. Two years since he’d had the courage to ask Kyungsoo out on a more-than-just-friends kind of dinner.
And, standing here, in a train full of nothing but the sound of his own heart beating and with his arms around his whole world - he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to feel this degree of right with anyone else, this degree of belonging with someone other than Kyungsoo.
This is where he belongs - with Kyungsoo.
‘Hey,’ he murmurs, pulling away slightly.
‘Hey what?’ teases Kyungsoo, his eyes still half-closed, his hand still fisted in the front of Jongin’s shirt. Neither of them are sure when it got there, but Kyungsoo doesn’t make any move to get rid of it. He likes holding Jongin close.
‘Hey… Move in with me.’
Kyungsoo’s eyes fly wide open, his grip on Jongin slackening. ‘I… Wait, what?’
‘I’m serious. Move in with me,’ says Jongin, bringing one hand up to brush his fingers against the skin of the elder’s cheek. ‘It makes sense, don’t you think? Being with each other like that, living together - isn’t that something you’d want?’
There’s a pause between when Jongin stops speaking and when Kyungsoo starts, and in that pause, in that silence, the former feels like he should think of minutes stretched into eternities, of moments turning into forevers, but - he doesn’t. All he can think about is the thought of being able to go to sleep with this man every night, about holding him in his arms until he’s drowned in slumber, and that’s…
That’s really all he wants, for now.
Really.
Kyungsoo can see it in his eyes, too.
‘You want me to move in with you?’ he begins, cocking one eyebrow now. He brings his hands away from Jongin, crosses his arms across his chest instead.
‘Well, yeah. Why not?’ Jongin’s voice takes on a defensive shade just then, and the younger’s fingers stop moving across Kyungsoo’s cheek. ‘What’s wrong with that?’
There’s a smile fighting to be let loose, but Kyungsoo wrestles the urge away. Jongin’s got that look on his face that’s so innocently indignant, looks like he’s about to burst if Kyungsoo prods him the wrong way, and, honestly, he loves it.
It’s one of his favourite things about Jongin.
‘I just don’t know how I feel about moving in with you,’ says Kyungsoo, struggling to keep his tone convincing. The automated voice above tells them they’ve arrived at their stop, and Kyungsoo walks right out of the train, a somewhat dumbstruck Jongin following along behind him.
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ asks Jongin, loud enough that they draw looks from the few stragglers left in the underground, but neither of them pay any mind to the onlookers. Kyungsoo takes the steps two at a time, Jongin stomps along with him.
‘It’s just - I don’t really want to,’ Kyungsoo shrugs, taking a deep breath when they finally reach outside. They set off in the direction of his apartment, and Kyungsoo has to bite on his lower lip as Jongin simmers.
They reach Kyungsoo’s apartment complex a few minutes later, Kyungsoo with his shoulders relaxed but the rest of him worn out, Jongin with his hands in his pockets and just the general air of grumpiness surrounding him. The ride up to Kyungsoo’s floor is silent, and when they finally get to his unit, Jongin’s just about ready to burst.
‘Okay - look,’ Jongin blusters, ‘If there’s something about me that you don’t like - ’
‘Your roommate,’ says Kyungsoo calmly, turning his key. ‘I don’t want to move in with you, because you have a roommate.’
‘Oh,’ says Jongin, deflating somewhat. He looks a cross between relieved and extremely confused, and Kyungsoo doesn’t fight the smile that spreads on his lips this time, doesn’t resist the temptation to get on his tiptoes and give Jongin a peck on the cheek.
‘What’s say you move in with me?’ suggests Kyungsoo, pushing the door open and switching the lights on. It’s past one in the morning now, moving closer to two, and he wants to revel in his successful taunting of Jongin, wants to properly take in the dissatisfaction sitting on his boyfriend’s face - but he can’t. It’s like his apartment has a veil of magic over it - he was fine on the train and walking home, but now, in the comfort of his own home, he can properly feel how tired he is. He heads straight to his bedroom and begins to undress, hears rather than sees Jongin come in after him.
‘That… Sounds great,’ says Jongin, his tone still somewhat dumbfounded. He lets Kyungsoo peel most of his clothes off him, lets himself be pushed on the bed and folded under the covers. Kyungsoo buries himself in the warmth of his bed and his boyfriend shortly after, and lets out a sigh of content. He tucks his head under Jongin’s chin and lets his eyes flutter shut, sleep beginning to invade his senses already.
He’s about to nod off when Jongin speaks.
‘Hey, Kyungsoo,’
‘What is it now, Jongin?’
‘I got the job.’
‘Really? That’s great.’
‘Yeah. They said they, um, really liked me.’
Kyungsoo smiles with his eyes still closed, pulls his arm tighter around Jongin’s waist. He darts forward just the slightest and presses a kiss where he knows Jongin’s heart to be, warm and content with his boyfriend in bed with him.
‘Well,’ he murmurs, ‘I can’t blame them. What’s there not to like?’
iii.
‘It’s not a big deal it’s not a big deal it’s not a big deal - ’
‘Dude, it’s like, the hugest fucking deal. Stop kidding yourself.’
‘Sehun, come on! I mean - I tried, okay? That counts for something, right?’
‘Jongin. Come back to reality. For your last anniversary he cooked you a five-course meal.’
‘He knows I can’t cook!’
‘And this is your seventh year anniversary.’
‘That’s why he does all the cooking and I do the cleaning - ’
‘And you’re about to give him a burnt cake. And overcooked pasta.’
Jongin lets out a high pitched wail, throws himself over his sofa as Sehun rolls his eyes. It’s the night of his and Kyungsoo’s anniversary, the first one they’re celebrating in their new apartment. After five years of living together in the old one, they’d finally saved up enough to move to a larger apartment, one that actually had room for them to move around in, and Jongin really wanted to make this celebration special.
So, when Kyungsoo had to head out to work for an emergency, he’d taken the opportunity to start making them a special anniversary dinner. He looked up recipes online, went out and bought all the ingredients, came home and started cooking - only to promptly find out that things don’t always go as perfectly as they do in Jamie Oliver’s kitchen, and he’d had to call Sehun over for moral support.
Which was, he realises now, probably the worst of his evening’s ideas.
‘I can’t believe you’re turning thirty and you still can’t cook pasta right,’ says Sehun loudly, not even looking up from his phone. He’s probably going through work emails, Jongin thinks - it’s hard for him to believe, most days, that his former roommate is steadily working his way up the career ladder over at the finance firm he works at now. Jongin still remembers Sehun stumbling home drunk at all hours wailing at him to let me in, the numbers are all spinning when the younger couldn’t remember the access code to their apartment.
Jongin sighs.
‘I can cook pasta fine, for your information,’ he says, his voice muffled. ‘It’s just that I was panicking because the cake was catching fire, and I forgot about the cooking. Okay?’
Sehun shrugs. ‘If you say so.’
‘I do,’ says Jongin, rather immaturely, he knows, but he doesn’t care. Right now the thing he cares about most is Kyungsoo coming home not only to a mess in his brand new kitchen, but to a big fat nothing for dinner. He lets out another sigh, this one longer and louder than the one before, and Sehun almost takes off his sock to ball it up and throw it at him.
‘Look - just take him out, okay? It’s not a big deal. You don’t have to do all this made with love shit. Come on,’ he says. ‘There are maybe fifty nice restaurants you could take him to, ones that’ll serve you good champagne, and I know he’ll love it just as much as he’d love your burnt cake and overcooked pasta, I’m sure.’
‘Okay,’ says Jongin, and Sehun huffs as he starts looking up places for them to eat on his phone. He rattles off name after name, Jongin rejecting each one in turn with comments like too stuffy, or too fancy or too many people go there. Sehun grows more and more exasperated with each name he reads off, until he finally gets to one that has Jongin’s ears pricking up in interest.
‘What was that last one?’
‘The Foundry?’
The name brings with it memories Jongin hasn’t thought about in a long time, and it makes a smile pull at his lips. ‘I took him there for our first anniversary,’ he says, fondly reminiscing about how nervous he was, how much he’d kicked himself for not buying Kyungsoo chocolates when the elder had brought him some of his own, remembers thinking how irrelevant all of that was when, at the end of the night, he got to go home to Kyungsoo’s apartment, got to wrap himself around one of the most precious things in the world to him.
‘Book it,’ he says, and he’s sure he hears Sehun grumble something about how I’m not your fucking personal assistant, but he doesn’t care. He has the chance to salvage his evening, so he will.
Sehun leaves an hour or so later, nodding at the thanks! Jongin hollers at him, lets himself out. Jongin sets to work cleaning up the disaster he had unleashed upon the kitchen, scrubbing surfaces until they gleam again, washing up everything he can get his hands on. He gets the place looking decent again and decides that it’s probably time for him to get ready, and texts Kyungsoo to tell him to meet him at the restaurant.
Dinner is a quiet affair, one that’s laced with love and with intimacy, Jongin having managed to get them a table in the corner of the restaurant. Kyungsoo looks a little haggard and worse for wear when he first walks in, but the tiredness in his eyes fades somewhat when he catches sight of Jongin, smiling, waiting for him in his seat. They order and they talk and they touch and they eat, and all the nerves Jongin had had throughout the day have disappeared, vanished with every smile Kyungsoo draws on his lips and every laugh the younger gets from his boyfriend.
When they step outside they’re greeted with semi-silent streets and dimmed streetlights. Kyungsoo presses his lips together and takes Jongin’s hand in his own, brings it up to kiss it softly, only tenderness to be seen in the action.
It brings a smile to Jongin’s lips. ‘Hey,’ he says, quietly, drawing Kyungsoo closer to him, hands settling on the elder’s waist.
‘Hey what?’ asks Kyungsoo, tilting his head to the side.
‘Hey, I love you,’ says Jongin, staring fondly into his boyfriend’s eyes.
‘Really? How much?’ challenges Kyungsoo, and Jongin laughs this time, laughs and pulls Kyungsoo flush against him, so the elder’s ear is on his heartbeat and his nose is buried in his hair.
‘So much,’ he says, softly, just loud enough so Kyungsoo can hear. ‘So much.’
Kyungsoo smiles to himself, breathes in the scent of Jongin all around him, thinks he never wants to let go of this, ever. ‘I adore you,’ he says, and he looks up and Jongin’s already looking at him, and when they kiss - when they kiss, it’s electric and it’s a slow burn and it’s a sudden midnight breeze dancing around their heads - and it’s right, it’s just so, so right.
Kyungsoo is the one who pulls away, hand still latched on the back of Jongin’s neck, thinking that no matter what happens, no matter how much time has passed - how right this feels - it isn’t going to change.
Jongin will always be right for him.
iv.
Going to the park in the middle of winter probably isn’t such a good idea, but Jongin lets himself be dragged outside anyway, Kyungsoo taking the lead. Snow has settled on the ground and makes it slick for them to walk through, but Kyungsoo soldiers on, Jongin following close behind him.
‘This isn’t exactly how I wanted to spend my 32nd birthday, Kyungsoo,’ grumbles Jongin, when snow starts to get into his boots and his socks begin to get wet. ‘What was wrong with staying inside, again?’
‘You need fresh air,’ says Kyungsoo, dusting snow off one of the park benches for him and Jongin to sit on. ‘Your bones are getting old, it’s not good for you to keep yourself locked up and stationary all day. That’s how you get all creaky,’
‘Says you,’ mumbles Jongin, sighing with relief when Kyungsoo finally gets done dusting. They settle themselves down, and Kyungsoo lays his head on Jongin’s shoulders, threads their fingers together on his lap. Now this - this, Jongin didn’t mind doing. Sure - outside in the freezing cold might not be ideal - but as long as he’s with Kyungsoo, he doesn’t think he can bring himself to mind as much.
He’s just about to settle into the comfortable silence that cradles him and Kyungsoo when something hard catches him on his knee, shoots pain into it that travels right up his thigh. ‘Ah!’ he gasps, shrugging Kyungsoo off as he brings his leg up, rests his foot on the bench so he can massage the pained area a little bit.
‘Jongin, what’s wr - ’
‘Hey mister? Are you alright?’ shrieks a child, voice high and piercing as it approaches the couple. The origin of the voice is a little boy - messy dark hair at attention for the wind, bright blue coat covered in specks of white. With him he brings another little boy - one with a beanie over his ears, his eyes just barely peeking out from under it.
‘We’re really sorry!’ blurts the boy with the beanie, rushing forward to bow to the couple, holding his body at a perfect right angle. ‘We didn’t mean to hit you!’ he says, words directed at the ground. The other boy catches up and mimics his friend’s pose, and Kyungsoo laughs quietly to himself when he spots the source of his boyfriend’s pain: a toy airplane, roughly the length of his forearm, its red paint easily spotted against the brown and white of the ground.
He reaches for it. ‘Is this yours?’ he asks, trying his best to keep his tone friendly. Both boys spring up at once, the messy-haired one holding up both his hands above his head to receive the toy. Kyungsoo chuckles, puts it in his hands. ‘Here you go,’ he says gently, keeping the smile on his face.
‘Thanks!’ say the boys, at the same time, the one with the messy hair running back the way he came. His friend is about to follow him - but stops, turns towards Jongin now, and presses his lips together.
‘We’re really, really sorry, mister,’ he murmurs, guilt dragging heavy on his words. By now the pain has ebbed away, and Jongin can’t really find it in his heart to be mad at the kid. He said sorry, after all.
‘It’s okay,’ says Jongin, smiling gently as he reaches out and tugs the beanie a little further up the boy’s face, just enough so his field of vision isn’t obscured by it. ‘I know you meant no harm. Now go find your friend, I bet he’s a better pilot than you are!’
‘No way!’ says the boy, his voice climbing a couple of pitches out of excitement, and then he turns around and he’s gone. Jongin and Kyungsoo both watch as he rejoins his friend, twin smiles blooming on their faces when they see the boys hop up and down in excitement, run, and try to get the plane to fly again.
‘I want one,’ says Jongin, sort of wistfully, sort of seriously. His eyes follow the boys’ movements as they run in tandem and subsequently fall over, a little chuckle tumbling out of his mouth. When he turns to look at Kyungsoo, he finds the elder already looking at him, the intensity of his eyes enough to fold the skin of his forehead into creases. ‘What?’
‘The boy or an airplane?’ asks Kyungsoo, and it should be ridiculous, hearing someone ask someone else that so seriously - but Jongin takes in Kyungsoo’s demeanour, the serious set of his mouth, and decides to swallow another laugh.
‘Um - boy?’ he tries, his tone teetering incredulous. Kyungsoo immediately relaxes, a grin threatening to split his face in half.
‘You want - you want a baby?’ he asks, hand landing on Jongin’s thigh, squeezing it in his excitement. ‘For - real?’
‘Well, yeah,’ says Jongin gently, hand coming up to caress his boyfriend’s cheek. ‘I mean - it isn’t going to be easy - seeing as, you know, we aren’t married, and all, but…’ Jongin’s voice trails off, the words drowning in Kyungsoo’s eyes. They’re the most marvellous shade of soft brown he’s ever seen, that’s true - but they’re also almost always filled with love, and Jongin wants to see that beauty bloom, wants to see if he can help make that kind of beauty grow in another person, with Kyungsoo by his side.
‘But?’ prompts Kyungsoo.
Jongin brushes the hair out of Kyungsoo’s face, leans up to kiss his boyfriend’s forehead. ‘I’d rather do difficult with you than easy with anyone else,’ he murmurs, gently pressing their foreheads together. Kyungsoo’s eyes flutter shut, the elder’s hand laying itself on the back of Jongin’s neck, pulling him in for a kiss.
‘A family,’ says Kyungsoo, against Jongin’s lips. ‘You want to start a family with me?’
‘Well - if that’s okay with you.’
Kyungsoo smiles, tilts forward to bury his face in Jongin’s chest.
‘I’ve never heard of anything more okay than that.’
// two