Quiet nights are nice.

 

Quiet nights.. are peaceful.

 

But it isn't the quiet that I love so much about the night. It isn't the soft whirring of the fan above. It isn't the comfort of a bed beneath. It's not even the summer air that drifts slowly in between whispers and secrets. It's the memories, the conversations. It's about him.

 

It's about his steady breathing, and the slight hitch from a whispy chuckle. It's about the shapes we make with our hands as they continuously intertwine and untangle themselves with a beat, a rhythm. It's about the ("incessant poking," and the "stop it now, before you regret it." Along with the, "or what? You'll tickle me?") aimless rambles that pad softly along the edge of evening. About the jokes that skitter between reality and dreams. It's about the shy smiles that dance on the outskirts of happiness.

 

It's about him.

 

"Jongin, how long do you think I have?"

 

With a lapse of silence and worry strewn across his features, he simply puffed his cheeks and smiled.

 

"As long as you need."

 

"Ey, that's such a cheesy response."

 

He chuckles, not in amusement, but in comfort.

 

"You have no one to blame but yourself."

 

We let the silence slide between our toes, wiggling it's way into the moment.

 

"I mean, who knows where I could have ended up."

 

He his lips, leaning his head against his hands, breathing out a drawn exhale.

 

After a pause.

 

"The most defensive people are the hardest to break. But they're the most loyal when you break them, and stand by their side."

 

It wasn't about the night, it wasn't about the quiet. But it was that I had him with me, through it all.

 

It's about him.

 

 

[A/N]: i've thought of the last line they say watching school 2013... yeah feels... sorry not sorry. lulz