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It's almost midnight, the stars are covered by clouds despite their bell-like protests. Their mother, the crescent moon, calms them with a promise that they will get to shine the next night (but for this, she has to be extinguished). And as you eavesdrop into their (silent) conversation, you feel your eyelids flicker like candlelight, eyelashes brushing against one another as you threaten to slip into a desperately-needed sleep. But you're pulled out of its deep waters by a familiar voice: "Pull an all-nighter with me," Hoseok says.

You turn your head suddenly, jolted by the intruding voice of your dear lover, the brightest star in your sky. "Ahh, but I'm so tired," you murmur sleepily, rubbing at your eyes harshly. "I have to rest, Hoseok, I have to get to the airport early tomorrow."

"And that's exactly why we should stay up all-night, or else we'll waste all of this time sleeping when we could spend it together." You stare at him, blinking lazily as you glance over his anguished face. Tomorrow, you'll be going on a three-month tour with the rest of your bandmates, performing all over the world to complete the promise you amended to with your fans - the four of you would bring a show to as many places as possible in this world tour, perhaps even travel the galaxy and back and bring a bottle of stardust to sprinkle over the audience. You sigh, as you have been for the past week, for three months - three, whole months! - is a long time.

"Please, (Y/N)!" he says desperately, the corners of his lips curved down towards the ground. "Please," he repeats, quietly this time, and you hear the sorrow in his voice: he already misses you despite you being right here, he loves you so much and can't bear to let you go, he feels that he is breaking even before you have left.

"Okay, okay," you relent, slipping your hand into his and shaking it gently. "We can stay up. I'll have to leave in two hours anyways." He beams happily, relieved that you have agreed to his constant pestering after many half-hours. "What do you want to do, Hoseok?" you ask, setting your laptop onto the coffee table and turning to give your utmost attention to him.

He picks up your book ("Partners in Crime? I love this book! Have you read Rich Games?") and turns to where you have left off - and that isn't far, as you hardly have time to do anything on your own time - and begins to read to you, becoming the characters themselves by changing his voice to match how he imagines them to sound. For Babydoll, he raises his pitch by several octaves, causing you to burst out into giggles, Chanyeol is a deep resonating voice that he can't maintain and ends up exploding in laughter. His hands come into use as he mimics shooting a gun or wrapping his arms around you protectively ("I'll be your Chanyeol, you'll be my Babydoll!" he exclaims, and you feel the heat rise in your cheeks).

When the pair of you have finally reached the end of the chapter - and that only took twenty minutes, tops - he sets it down and pulls you up onto your feet. "Let's find something else to do!" he says insistently, dragging you to the kitchen. "Food, food! I'm hungry, I need food." You laugh and let him guide your arms as he helps you pull open cabinet doors, peering at what the shelves contain over the top of your head. He continues like this, searching for something substantial for the pair of you to eat. "Let's just eat the cake in the fridge, Hopie," you say tiredly, fatigued by all of this movement. He looks you over then dips his head in agreement, a little crestfallen at your unenthusiasm. There's a pang in your heart, but it doesn't last long - you're just too tired.

The cake is shared between the two of you, but you push it away after three bites, feeling a little sickened as you aren't actually hungry. "Ahh, eat more, (Y/N)," Hoseok insists, holding a forkful of cheesecake out towards you. "Come on, just one one more bite! I'll eat the rest, I promise." You give a little smile then open your mouth, and he moves it towards you then veers it off into his own, and you yell a 'hey!' then dissolve into laughter. He grins teasingly, and spears the slice of cake onto his fork, waving it around precariously. At the sight of you with that radiant smile of yours etched onto your features, he mirrors you with no trouble at all, joyful, grateful, and thankful to be spending these last few hours with you with laughter and smiles instead of tears and quiet sobbing in the night.

"Ahh, daebak, that cake was really something," he says, leaning back into his seat. You reach across the table and pat his stomach lightly, teasing him gently. He grabs your hand and pretends to bite it, giving a loud, "Nom, nom, nom!" to make you squeal. "Come on, let's go out for a walk," he says suddenly, gathering the plate and forks to put in the sink, quickly rinsing his hands before moving towards the closet. He dives into the small space and slips his arms into the sleeves of his jacket, even though it is still on the hanger. "(Y/N), help!" he yelps, pretending to be dangling when really, he's just on his tippy-toes with a well-painted expression on his face. You cover your mouth, trying to hide your laughter even though it can be heard quite easily, and he shoots you a sweet smile, then gets himself untangled from among the folds of jackets all around. As he struggles his way out of the closet, he manages to get ahold of your favorite coat, and helps you into it. "There, this should do it," he murmurs as he pulls the hood over your head, tightening the strings so that you are completely covered. He leans forward and kisses you gently on the forehead, your nose, each of your cheeks, then your lips, an unexpected, tender kiss you always have a craving for. He pulls away and stares at you, his eyes dark with that resented sorrow he has tried to chase away, for he doesn't want you to go, he wants you to stay by his side forever and ever - but you'll be on a plane in just a half-hour and he won't see you for three months after that. "Let's go," he says softly, and pulls you along out the door and into the cold night.

He holds your hand in his pocket, the warmth from both the enveloping cloth and his skin a pleasurable treasure. "Hoseok, where are we going?" you ask, your voice cutting through the silent night. The stars and moon and clouds are no longer fighting, slipping into some sort of resolution while the pair of you were reading stories and eating cake.

"Wherever you want to go," he says simply, slowing his pace so that your feet are in front. You shrug your shoulders up, then drop them, at a loss of where to go. In all honesty, you want to sleep among the comforters and pillow and Hoseok by your side, you want to be inside instead of out in the cold, but there is only twenty-seven minutes left now.

You let him lead once again, and he takes you around the neighborhood, stepping into the solitude soldiers' pool of lamplights, each one twenty feet from one another, he makes sure you walk on the inside of the sidewalk to protect you from the occasional car that could run into him at any moment, and in the next twenty minutes he doesn't say a word, for there are too many in his turmoil of thoughts. What can he say? There is too much to cram into such a short amount of time. It is now that he wants to relive all of the memories he's shared with you, he wants to confess to everything he has thought of you, he wants to plead for you to say. But what can he say? There is too much to cram into such a short amount of time...

And there are only three minutes left. He takes you back home, to a home you won't see for three long, long months (and you think to yourself that he is the real home), murmuring, "Stay here, I'll bring out your luggage," and disappearing inside the home. His hand rests on the top of the suitcase (just one, you can't bring too much of anything along, especially not him), which curls into a fist around the handle as he drags it outside to you, the lone figure that is now connected to everything he is. There's only two minutes left.

"(Y/N)," he manages, his lips cracked from the winds born from clouds. You avert your gaze to the suitcase, making sure all of the zippers are in place, that the lock isn't set so anyone could crack the code, fumble around with the ribbon that you use to identify it as yours on the trolley. "(Y/N), don't go," he whispers sadly.

You look up and a tear slips down your cheek. "I promise I'll come back," you say gently, framing his face with your hands. His hand rushes to meet yours, clutching it with a fierce intensity. One minute. "I promise, Hoseok," you say again. "I promise."

He leans down and kisses you, and the car that has come to pick you up arrives out of nowhere. Time's up. "You promise?" he says.

"I promise."

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