Running to You | Park Han + JL + Steven | Haneulz + Stejay AU

Chapter 41: Dawn In Your Room

JL woke up to the sound of rain tapping gently against the windows of Shuaibo's guest room.

The silk sheets were too smooth under his skin, the pillows too thick. It took him a full minute to remember where he was. China. Zhang family estate. Last night.

The kiss.

He sat up too quickly. His head spun.

Steven was still asleep on the futon near the door, one arm draped over his eyes, the hoodie he changed into after the club bunched around his waist, shirt slightly twisted from the way he'd crashed half on, half off the blanket.

JL stared at him for a long time.

His chest ached. Not the painful kind, like from running too hard... but the other kind. The kind that made you afraid to move.

He remembered every second of it. The rooftop. The words. The way Steven's mouth had pressed against his like it had known exactly how to ask without demanding. Like he'd waited for this. Like he'd earned it.

JL touched his lips without thinking. They still felt warm.

He didn't know what came next. He didn't even know if he was ready for what this meant. But he did know one thing:

He hadn't wanted it to end.

Steven stirred. JL froze.

Then Steven shifted, cracking one eye open. He blinked at the ceiling, then at JL. Then slowly sat up, hair sticking up on one side. Even then, he looked so beautiful and undone. It made JL's breath hitch to see Steven like that... intimate. Unguarded. In his room. 

"Hey," he said, voice sleep-rough and quiet. JL tried to smile. "Hey."

Steven rubbed the back of his neck. "Last night was..."

"I know."

"Do you regret it?"

JL hesitated. Then shook his head. "No. Not even for a second."

Steven looked up, eyes tired but warm. "That's all I've ever wanted."

JL stood, slowly, like he wasn't sure if gravity still applied. The rain outside had turned to mist, just a whisper against the windowpane, the whole room steeped in that soft post-storm hush.

He crossed to the chair where Steven's hoodie still hung -- faded black, sleeves stretched, faintly holding the shape of his shoulders. Steven had looked incredible in his suit and turtleneck last night. But hoodies... they were who Steven was. JL picked it up, hesitating only a second before turning and walking back over.

He held it out.

Steven took it, looking down at the fabric, then up -- gaze locked, heavy, unmoving.

"You didn't have to -- " he started.

"I wanted to," JL said.

Steven didn't blink. Didn't speak. His fingers curled slowly around the hoodie in his lap, but he didn't pull it closer.

Instead, he leaned back on one hand -- forearm flexing just slightly -- and said, voice low and steady, "I'm not asking you to choose."

He let that hang in the air.

"But I also want to keep kissing you."

JL's breath hitched.

Steven didn't move closer. He didn't need to. He sat on the bed, broad and gorgeous and still somehow devastatingly casual -- legs spread, jaw sharp, eyes dark with something patient and hungry. He looked like someone who knew exactly what he wanted. And how to wait for it.

And JL...

JL felt it everywhere. Felt it behind his teeth, in the hollow of his throat, in the ache between his ribs. Felt it low, spreading, molten. His mouth actually watered. 

Steven noticed. Of course he did.

He tilted his head a little, smile curving lazy and knowing.

"Keep it," he said.

JL blinked. "What?"

"The hoodie. Keep it." His voice dipped. "I like the thought of you wearing something of mine. The scent... the weight."

JL looked down at it. He could already smell him on the fabric -- cedar and sweat and something warm, something clean. And maybe, already, a little of himself too.

The room went still again.

He held the hoodie close, not sure if he was supposed to wear it... or drop it... or bury his face in it and lose his damned  mind.

And JL -- God, JL -- stood there barefoot in the center of his room, and knew that if he leaned forward even an inch, the kiss would happen again. And this time, it would not be gentle.

It would be fire.

JL swallowed hard.

Steven had always been kind. Gentle. The steady kind of warm that never asked for anything, never pulled too hard. The kind of person who waited. Who held the door. Who carried the weight for other people without needing to be seen.

But now?

Now that they had kissed -- really kissed -- JL saw it clearly. Saw it in the firm set of Steven's jaw, the heat in his stare. 

He wasn't asking JL to choose. But he was still claiming him. Still wanting, burning slow and steady beneath the quiet.

And that realization, that Steven could look at him like that and still be gentle... made something twist deep in JL's stomach, sharp and hot and aching too. 

The thought rose in his chest like a whisper, impossible to ignore. 

If he asked again... I'd let him.