It's 3am, but I couldn't sleep with this idea. First oneshot(yaaaay)
Enjoy.
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Rain hammered relentlessly against the apartment windows, turning the city beyond into a watercolor blur of neon signs and smeared headlights. From this high up, the world looked distant and indistinct beneath the storm. Every so often lightning flickered across the skyline, illuminating the dark clouds hanging over the city before fading back into soft midnight blue.
Inside the apartment, warmth clung to every surface.
The low golden lights beneath the kitchen cabinets cast a gentle glow across polished wood floors and plush rugs Seonghwa insisted made the place feel "less like a millionaire bachelor pad." A candle burned somewhere in the living room, filling the air with sandalwood and vanilla. The dishwasher hummed softly in the background. Safe sounds. Domestic sounds.
Hongjoong stood motionless by the kitchen island with one hand wrapped around the edge of the counter so tightly his knuckles had gone pale.
The kettle simmmered quietly nearby.
But he'd forgotten about it ten minutes ago.
His reflection stared back at him faintly in the rain-darkened glass. His shoulders swallowed by an oversized charcoal hoodie, dark hair messy from repeatedly dragging his fingers through it, exhaustion etched into every line of his face.
He looked nothing like the man people saw at the studio.
There, Hongjoong commanded rooms effortlessly. Producers deferred to him. Artists chased his approval. Executives called him "visionary" and "brilliant" and "untouchable."
Tonight he just felt tired.
Tired in a way sleep never seemed to fix.
He exhaled slowly through his nose and closed his eyes.
Tomorrow's schedule ran through his head immediately.
An artist threatening to walk from a contract. Investors demanding revisions. Budgets stretched thin. A campaign deadline impossible to meet unless he personally stepped in again.
Everyone needed something from him.
And if he stopped delivering, even once...
He let out a silent breath.
The floor creaked softly behind him.
Hongjoong didn't turn around before warm arms slid around his waist.
The tension left his body so abruptly it almost hurt.
Seonghwa pressed against his back sleepily, cheek resting between his shoulder blades. He was warm from bed, his skin soft beneath the thin silk pajama shirt hanging loose on his frame. One of the buttons had come undone somewhere between sleep and walking down the hallway.
Hongjoong covered Seonghwa's hands instinctively, intertwining their fingers over his stomach.
"You should be asleep," Hongjoong murmured quietly.
Seonghwa only tightened his arms around him. "The bed got cold."
Despite everything twisting inside his chest, Hongjoong smiled faintly.
"You woke up because I wasn't there?"
"I always wake up when you're gone too long."
His voice was still rough with sleep, soft and low enough to send warmth blooming through Hongjoong's chest despite himself.
