Wonshik rolls onto his back, stretching his arms wide enough to reach the other side of the bed, his fingers running over the cold, messy sheets, wanting to touch something but finding nothing. He blinks his eyes open, getting momentarily blind from the light infiltrating the room before he notices Hakyeon sitting on the windowsill, half of his right cheek floating in the air, head leant against the windowpane and arms hugging his knees to his chest.

Wonshik smiles at the sight and slowly moves out of the bed, Hakyeon not indicating in any way that he has noticed him waking up. He flinches a little when he feels Wonshik's arms on his back and chest, his chin resting on Hakyeon's shoulder. Hakyeon turns his head towards him, smiling softly as he kisses his forehead, looking out the window again.

“What do you think?” Hakyeon asks, seemingly from the window, but Wonshik knows he’s the one being addressed.

Wonshik stands on his tiptoes to look over Hakyeon's other shoulder, examining the scenery.  It’s not quite winter yet, but deciduous trees are completely bare now, hoarfrost painting their branches greyish white, people walking around in warm, thick clothes, those driving cars travelling carefully not to slip on the road. The air looks crisp, there’s a small breeze blowing antennas on tops of buildings—the whole thing sends a shiver through Wonshik's body.

“I think we should stay indoors all day,” he replies finally.

“I meant, about last night,” Hakyeon amends.

“Oh, last night,” Wonshik pulls back, grinning, caressing Hakyeon's back gently. “I think you looked incredibly hot in that suit, but if there’s one thing you look even hotter in, that’s my shirt.” He pulls lightly at the white fabric hanging loose on Hakyeon's shoulder, revealing a small part of his collarbone, enjoying how easily the shirt gives in, how huge it looks on Hakyeon's tiny figure despite it being only two sizes bigger. He hooks a finger into the waistband of Hakyeon's briefs just under his hipbone, leaning close to kiss the side of his neck. “But you look much hotter when you take these off.”

“Stop now,” Hakyeon rebukes half-heartedly, batting Wonshik's hand away from his hip, but holding his hand right after. “What do you think about the wedding? Your little princess has a new prince. You’ll need to talk about your feelings at some point.”

Wonshik groans, throwing his head back, blinking at the ceiling a few times. He swings their linked hands back and forth, eventually looking at Hakyeon whose eyes are roaming over his face like he’s trying to read something out of his features—and he probably is.

“Fine,” he says with resignation. “I think they’re happy, Jiwon’s happy and I have to let her go now, because— because I think she might have found her Mr Right and she’s already a big enough girl, and… It’s not like I can do anything about it now, right?” He laughs nervously and Hakyeon's hold tightens around his fingers. “Maybe I could’ve set something on fire or started yelling at people at the ceremony, but I’m sure they would’ve found a way to continue anyway. And, like— when I saw her all dolled up and so confident and so excited, I felt… calm? I think? She looked like a grown-up. Talked like a grown-up. She was still my baby sis, but at the same time, she was kind of like mum. It’s silly.”

Wonshik chuckles sheepishly, and Hakyeon looks up at him with a wide smile from which Wonshik feels like hiding, because it reminds him of a parent looking at their child. He awkwardly lifts Hakyeon's hand to his mouth, and presses a kiss to his knuckles.

“That was pretty mature from the guy who wanted to become a bodyguard for his little sister some years ago,” Hakyeon says playfully.

“Do you want me to throw you out the window?” Wonshik grumbles, peering at Hakyeon's smug expression.

“I dare you.”

Wonshik arches an eyebrow and lets go of Hakyeon's fingers, sliding his arm under his pulled up knees. There’s a flash of terror in Hakyeon's eyes as Wonshik lifts him up from the windowsill, and when Wonshik turns around with him, dropping him on the bed, he screams in a tone that can hardly be labelled manly. Wonshik almost grins victoriously, but the momentum carries Hakyeon further and he rolls off the bed, flailing around in vain—he lands on the polished wooden floor with a thud and a whine.

“Holy ,” Wonshik mutters and falls to his knees on the bed, crawling to the other side as fast as he can to see Hakyeon lying there on his back with his hands pressed on his face. Wonshik notes that the edge of the nightstand is merely a few inches away from his head. “Hakyeon? You okay?”

“What the ,” Hakyeon mutters behind his hands. “This is not how it was supposed to go, it could’ve been so romantic, what the , Wonshik.” He takes his hands off his face to glare at him. “Why are you such a klutz when it comes to these things?”

Wonshik swallows thickly and averts his eyes. It’s true, this scene had the potential to be romantic, but he messed up like he always does. That one time he tried to cook dinner for Hakyeon only to pour piping hot sauce into his lap? The doctor at the emergency department of the hospital laughed so hard he could barely attend to Hakyeon's injury. Oh, and when they tried having with Wonshik blindfolded? He still remembers the pain of the kicks he got from Hakyeon after accidentally knocking down three picture frames and a fake Tiffany lamp from Hakyeon's nightstand.

"Are you, uh— are you angry with me?" Wonshik asks tentatively, opting for his expression and voice to lean towards the cute end of the scale instead of the miserable one, but it's always been Hakyeon who could pull off the cutesy act so convincingly. Still, trying can't hurt.

"I'm just—" Hakyeon lets out a very deep sigh, and shakes his head. "Come down here, we can't fall further down from the floor. I hope."

An image of the floor opening up and both of them falling down into the bed of the hotel guest under their room flashes through Wonshik's mind, but he tries not to think of it for long—too big of a chance of it actually happening.

He climbs off the bed and lies down next to Hakyeon, one of his hands gently caressing Hakyeon's arm. "You're not hurt, right?"

"Ah, come on," Hakyeon rolls his eyes in frustration. "I'm not made of porcelain."

"No, you aren't," Wonshik agrees with a smile. "Sorry."

"Yeah, whatever," Hakyeon says and turns onto his tummy with much struggle during which he elbows Wonshik in the spleen. Or liver. Something soft inside his abdomen. "I want to marry you."

Wonshik doesn't comprehend the words at first, not really. Hakyeon says them so carelessly he doesn't even think about them possibly meaning more than a statement about the gloominess of the weather outside. When Hakyeon starts scraping at the material of the nightstand though, the weight of his sentence finally sinks in for Wonshik and he blinks a few.

"Uh, yeah?" he asks cleverly, and Hakyeon frowns at him.

"Klutz," he grumbles.

"No, I mean, yeah," Wonshik replies, has no idea where he's going with this. "No, I— I do... understand you, I just. Why so suddenly?"

"Suddenly," Hakyeon echoes, seemingly tasting the word. "It's not exactly sudden, actually. I've been thinking about it a lot. And you, too. I saw it on you when we got the invitation from Jiwon, and I saw it on you when I was putting on my suit, and I saw it on you when they said 'I do'. It's not sudden."

"Yeah, but—" Wonshik takes a deep breath in hopes of it clearing his head a little. "How can you talk about this so casually?"

"I've known it for long. That I'll want to marry you some time in the future."

"Okay, but, are we speaking theoretically?"

"Well, I'm not," Hakyeon says, and for the first time since the start of this conversation, Wonshik notices his nervousness: Hakyeon softly bites down on his lower lip as he looks at him, waiting for something.

"I... don't really know what you're expecting from me now," Wonshik mumbles, feeling like an idiot. "It's not like I have a ring in my back pocket or something. I don't even have a back pocket."

They both glance down at Wonshik's briefs—the only article of clothing he's wearing. When their eyes meet again, Hakyeon tears at his lower lip with his teeth so hard Wonshik is afraid he'll draw blood.

"What if I said I do?" he says quietly, finally letting go of his poor, red lip. He's blinking faster than usual, and there's that slight pink tint across the bridge of his nose that only appears when something embarrasses him so much he's seconds away from crying.

"I'm ting my pants just thinking about asking this," Wonshik mutters with his heart in his throat, "but we're not talking about the back pocket, are we?"

Hakyeon swallows audibly and reaches up to open the top drawer of the nightstand. When he brings his hand back down, there's a navy blue velvet box between his shaky fingers, and he scoots back to lay his head on the floor, cheek getting squashed against it. He keeps his hand on the box that's now sitting threateningly between them, fumbles with the lid while Wonshik feels like he's going to throw up in approximately three seconds, and he'll be the one to up the moment, again. He secretly hopes this is one of Hakyeon's cruel jokes (one random Wednesday morning he woke up to tons of ketchup smeared onto Hakyeon's pillow, and the old lady next door called the police on them when she heard Wonshik's piercing screams—Hakyeon almost choked from being unable to breathe as he laughed his off during the incident), but the way he glances up at Wonshik only to avert his eyes a moment later is speaking volumes of his real intention.

He finally manages to open the box, but Wonshik looks away immediately, staring at Hakyeon instead, is sure that his face reflects deep horror—which is what he actually feels at the moment.

"Kim Wonshik," Hakyeon says in a shaky tone, but before he could continue, Wonshik blurts out:

"Oh, God..."

"Could you not mess this up for me?" Hakyeon asks, pulling one of his bichiest faces. He clears his throat, organizing his features into a weird mixture of nausea and excitement. "Kim Wonshik, if I said that I want to live with you until I breathe my last... if I said that I want something on my finger to brag about when people ask if I have someone... even if it seems pointless to try to strengthen our relationship with our signature, will you marry me?"

Who's the klutz, really is what first comes to Wonshik's mind, and he almost laughs out loud at this thought. That was anything but a perfect proposal, and he knows he would have done it a lot worse (certainly wouldn't have tried to have a romantic dinner at home again), but Hakyeon prides himself in being the more composed one between them, and lo and behold, he at these things just as much as Wonshik, and that's one of the reasons why Wonshik can keep his voice so steady when he says, "Yes. Yes, of course I'll marry you."

Hakyeon's eyes sparkle more beautifully than ever when he pushes himself up into sitting position, pulling Wonshik up with him. Wonshik knocks his head into the nightstand and lets out a growl, but Hakyeon looks blind and deaf to that: he draws Wonshik as close as he can, reaching into the box with shaky fingers, pulling out a moderately wide silvery band with a matte stripe running along it in the middle, the edges shiny. Hakyeon drops the box between his crossed legs and reaches out for Wonshik's left hand that its owner can barely move—it twitches as he lifts it up for Hakyeon. Hakyeon slips on the ring fairly easily anyway, and it fits perfectly, like Wonshik has been wearing it since he was born. He smiles at the band happily, still feels like an idiot, but Hakyeon looks just as stupid with his wide grin, so he doesn't care.

Wonshik notices the pair of his ring in the box between Hakyeon's legs, fishing it out while Hakyeon jumps at the hand suddenly rummaging between his thighs. Wonshik takes Hakyeon's hand and puts the ring on his finger, marvelling at how gorgeous it looks in contrast with Hakyeon's beautiful skin, and, for the second time that morning, brings Hakyeon's hand up to his mouth, kissing the ring on his finger until the metal isn't cold anymore.

"I hope it's not only because of Jiwon's wedding," Wonshik says, holding Hakyeon's hand in both of his palms, like he wants to protect the ring from the outside world entirely.

"Are you kidding me," Hakyeon says, and he sounds a little winded, as if he just ran a mini marathon. "I've had the rings for over a month. I didn't have the courage to ask."

"Well, I'm glad you did now."

"You didn't seem like you were over the moon, though," Hakyeon says with a small, involuntary pout.

"I was just praying to God not to puke on you, I swear," Wonshik replies, letting go of Hakyeon's hands in favour of cupping his face. "You have no idea how happy I am. I love you so much, Hakyeon. I love you more than anything. You're better than air."

He leans in to kiss him, but Hakyeon puts his hands over Wonshik's, and laughs softly.

"What?" Wonshik asks with a tinge of hurt in his voice.

"You didn't mess up this time," Hakyeon replies, and his eyes now sparkle even more--there are tears threatening to spill from them. "But I wouldn't have minded if you had."

"I'll mess up a million more times in the future, I promise."

Wonshik muffles Hakyeon's happy laughter with his mouth, smearing the tears that trickle down his cheeks with his thumbs while Hakyeon holds onto his hands like he's the only one keeping him on the ground. They kiss with their mouths stretching into the most joyous grins which is nearly impossible without their teeth meeting, and when that happens, Hakyeon wraps his arms around Wonshik's neck, pulling him into his lap, holding him so tight Wonshik feels his rapid heartbeat inside his own chest. For some reason he thinks about the time when they started dating, how he kept counting their kisses, the very first peck on the lips counting as only a half, how he was unsure Hakyeon wanted this as much as he did until he lost count of the kisses and found Hakyeon's suitcases and boxes in which he moved his stuff over to Wonshik's overlaid with dust in the corner of their bedroom. He remembers how often he accidentally pushed Hakyeon off the bed at nights in his sleep, and how afraid he was Hakyeon was going to leave him solely for that reason, because on more than one occasion his retorts during fights included the notion that it was almost impossible to live under the same roof with Wonshik.

But he's still holding Hakyeon in his arms and Hakyeon is holding him after all those years, and there's a new yet familiar pressure on his left ring finger that has an insanely long and boring story to tell about these two people in love, and Hakyeon can't stop crying and Wonshik feels very close to it as well, his heart trying to escape through his mouth to be with the person it truly belongs to: Hakyeon.

Maybe if they kiss long enough, it'll actually happen. They still need to test that out.