(no) Strings Attached

Just Us, Always

Seonghwa stretched in his sleep, wrist bumping something—or rather someone— making him snap his eyes open.

Blinking he turned his head, meeting the sight of Hongjoong sprawled on the bed, one hand above his head on the pillow, the other resting above his eyes. Probably because of this one split of light landing right on his eyelids.

The younger felt his lips stretching into a soft smile, lifting one of his hands to break the uncomfortable streak of sun rays.

It made the crease between Hongjoong's brows disappear, and Seonghwa's chest boost with contentment.

His heart beat with gratitude, and something sweeter that had to do completely with the boy sleeping next to him.

The clock showed that it was really early, but for once Seonghwa didn't feel dread at the fact. He just felt refreshed. Happy even.

Because for the first time in months, he didn't wake up because he had to, but because his body slept enough to wake him up on its own.

He spent at least fifteen minutes looking at the sleeping beauty beside him, his arm even if slightly sore, never once dared lower. Seonghwa wanted to repay the kindness given to him like nothing even throughout the smallest things.

As many times as Hongjoong says he doesn't have to meet any standards Seonghwa can't just take, take and take. Because Hongjoong deserves to be given too.

Somewhere between his thoughts of his parents and Hongjoong the latter stirred in his sleep. Like instinct, he searched for his lover first thing. Noticing the hand a few centimeters from his eyes he smiled softly, raising his own to intertwine their fingers.

"What are you doing, little fairy?" He scoffed, nothing but love between his teasing eyes.

"N-nothing" The younger stuttered embarrassingly much, his cheeks turning pink.

Hongjoong chuckled, turning over to hover above Seonghwa, each of his elbows on either side of his head.

"You don't know how much peace waking up next to you brings me." He mumbled, forehead stuck to the other's.

Seonghwa's breath caught. Eyes pinned on warm brown. "Me too" he admitted.

With a wider smile Hongjoong simply leaned down, giving Seonghwa a soft, yet firm kiss on his plump lips.

"You know I love you, right?" He whispered, the way their lips rubbed making everything ten times more intimate.

"Yes. I know. And I love you too." Seonghwa mumbled, the words fell foreign on his tongue. But if it meant he could be looked at with raw emotions, then he'd force himself to get used to this.

Because this made him feel valuable. Seen. Taken care of.

"Babies, breakfast is ready."

Hongjoong chuckled at his mother's voice, reluctantly detaching from Seonghwa. Because he won't skip a single meal next to this boy. Not until Seonghwa feels okay enough to give into his hunger without being cautious of whether he deserves the meals or not.

"Come on. Time we fill that sad stomach of yours." He joked, eyes flying to Seonghwa right after, fearing he chose the wrong words.

But Seonghwa's shy smile kicked such thoughts away.

Hongjoong's mom scooped a spoonful of some porridge onto Seonghwa's bowl—sweet, harmless, and likely delicious to most. But Seonghwa froze for half a second. Then—he lifted his hand.

He never liked porridges. It reminded him of the times Hongjoong would bother himself with feeding him— something, anything; as he'd beg.

He has linked this food with a really low point of his life, a point he was trying to leave behind.