For Taeyong, going home after a long day has always been a breath of fresh air.

Every evening after clocking out of the library, he rushes past the streaming lights of the city, left gasping for the reprieve of warmth––it’s this eagerness to find the familiar comfort of an abode that pushes him to get back home as soon as he can.

Handling the library after school has always been a gratifying venture for him. He’s happy with the thought of being surrounded by the smell of worn leather, and that if he reached out blindly, there would be a multitude of universes to get himself lost in. 

And yet, despite the fulfillment it brings to be around the books he loves so much, those few hours in the library still tire him out. At the end of the day without fail, he’d be itching to go home and get cozy. 

Home speaks to him the way chocolate chip cookies fill his mouth, or how Brian McKnight songs filter unceasingly through the kitchen. 

Home means there’s a hand, much larger and more delicate than his, that willingly intertwines with Taeyong’s own. 

A perfect fit.

He’s a bit embarrassed, having caught himself multiple times throughout the course of a normal day, thinking just how happy he’d be returning home. 

It’s familiar, he tries to reason, because he is nothing but an awkward turtle who wants for nothing more than what he knows and is comfortable with. But he also knows that’s not the real reason why he’s so giddy at the thought of home. 

During the days he works late at the library, he’s inexplicably soothed by the fact that there’s someone waiting for him to finish up at the library and go. 

Taeyong has someone to come home to.

At the thought, a small smile comes up on his face unbidden. If anyone had the gall to ask him why he seemed so happy, all he could probably say would be “because I’m going home.”

But the unspoken words that would follow could be heard by anyone from miles away, “because, at home, the person I love is waiting for me.”

The minute he arrives at the doorstep of his apartment, Taeyong only realizes then that he’s been holding his breath since he was still a block away. 

Such a fool, he berates himself, bemused. 

Taeyong puts his key into place and quietly opens the door, careful not to make a sound. It’s only just 11PM in the evening, but most of the lights on his apartment’s floor are already turned off, including his.

Locking the door after stepping inside, Taeyong hangs his coat and scarf on a nearby coatrack. Usually at this time, he’d be hearing the tinny of a radio coming from the kitchen, some random song from an English airway flitting throughout the apartment’s halls. 

But there’s nothing right now, no foreign songs to accompany the night nor any midnight DJs connecting with their viewers. Only the staticky silence greets him as he slowly pads through the living room.

“Hyunnie?” he calls out, voice soft.

He gets no response. Immediately he thinks that maybe the younger boy went out, needing to run a quick errand. Or he might have been suddenly sought out by one of his friends. Whichever reason it may have been, Taeyong’s heart sinks a little at the realization that the person he wanted to see the most, the one he wanted to come home to, wasn’t there. 

The day’s fatigue comes down on him in waves, and he lets out a small whimper, suddenly dragged down by exhaustion. All he wants then is to collapse in bed and sleep the night away. He feels sullen, all the happiness and anticipation he’s felt from wanting to come home starts seeping out of him slowly, threatening to buckle his legs. 

Idly he wonders when his happiness started to be influenced by a single person. He tries to remember, just when did his days become so much more vividly technicolor? Just when did his nights not have to be painted in monochrome and darkened with solitude? 

He tries to remember, but it all comes up blank. All those bleak days and lonely nights seem so far away now. 

Because now instead of the emptiness of night, there’s a warmth enveloping him from behind, all lithe and pure comfort, a frame that brackets him protectively. At night, there are lips the color of roses skimming his jaw, pale skin smoothly gliding over his own. 

Red and white are stark against the black of his nights, making him choke out with heady want. He’s helpless against the promise of desire and assurance, knows they will course through him should he let himself be colored in them.

But what truly suffocates him, the color that makes him forget everything, is brown. 

Brown eyes, almost smudged with gold under the moonlight. 

The first time he allowed those eyes to look through him, he saw it. 

A promise.

“You belong here.”

And every time after that, when they capture his gaze, he sees it. 

An ultimatum.

“With me.”

Taeyong smiles at that, feeling nostalgic and silly at the same time. I’m hopeless, he decides, embarrassed how annoyingly romanticist he seemed. 

He decides to wait up for the younger boy instead of pondering, content with distracting himself from the loneliness even just for a while. Whatever his exhaustion, seeing the person he wanted to come home to is more important than sleeping in till late the next day. 

Even if he sleeps in anyway, the heartache would probably consume him. And having to go through such fitful sleep at the cusp of the weekend worries him. So he opts to turn on the radio in the kitchen. Maybe with a bit of luck, he thinks he might be able to listen to a Drake song.

When he saunters into the kitchen, he’s completely unprepared for the sight that greets him.

He’d anticipated an empty room, cupboards all closed, island counter devoid of clutter. Taeyong lives for spotless surroundings, having a compulsive need since childhood to make sure nothing is amiss, that everything should be clean and orderly. 

But there are chip bags strewn across the kitchen countertop, though only one is actually open. There’s also a bag of his favorite chocolate chips mixed into the mess, and at seeing them he feels jilted, small frown marring his face because those are his favorite chips and who dared eat them? 

He knows he should feel absolutely horrified with the whole situation, because his need to clean and declutter is clawing up his back like a vice.

But life likes to play with him.

Because in the middle of the small chaos in his kitchen sits Jaehyun.

Jaehyun, who is sunshine personified–

–and dead to the world.

And yet.

Taeyong’s thrilled.

Quickly enough, he falls away from the initial hiccup of disappointment he felt when he assumed Jaehyun went out. The younger boy didn’t leave the house to run an errand, nor did he leave the house to be with his friends. He’s here, right now, with Taeyong. 

Jaehyun’s here. 

Suddenly, nothing matters but that.

Belatedly, there’s a small twinge of something in his chest at the sight, seeing Jaehyun sleeping so soundly on the kitchen counter surrounded by some of their midnight snacks. 

He’s always been beautiful, turning heads more times than Taeyong can count. His straight nose, the rounded curves of his cheeks, his plush red lips, slender jaw. 

Jaehyun is a man, but he appeared so soft despite being taller than Taeyong. He’s lovely beyond reason, beautiful inside just as he is outside. He’s gentle with people, loving in the ways he could express himself to the ones who mattered to him. He’s intelligent and athletic, witty, and completely talented. 

Jaehyun is, in so many people’s eyes, perfect. He’s golden.

Taeyong thinks he doesn’t deserve him.

He doesn’t mean to be self-deprecating, if he can help it. Jaehyun has always told him to cherish himself more. 

‘Stop feeling sorry for yourself,’ he’d say. 

And Taeyong tries, desperately so. Because as much as he feels unworthy of having this beautiful boy by his side, there’s a bigger part of him that wants to keep on hoping that Jaehyun will stay with him––forever. 

As pathetic as it sounds, he can’t even consider the thought of losing him, because Taeyong’s certain he’d never be himself again if Jaehyun were to disappear from his life. 

Losing himself in his musings, he fails to realize that his body had gone on autopilot. 

All of a sudden, he’s already pressed up against Jaehyun’s side. 

He comes to, and Taeyong finds himself already carding gentle fingers through the younger boy’s hair, subconsciously acting on his instinct of easing whatever burdens Jaehyun might have had that day. 

It feels like second nature for him to come home and bundle Jaehyun into an embrace, to tell him “you’re doing so well,” and “I’m proud of you.” 

They have these moments often enough, with Jaehyun settling himself on their worn but comfortable couch like clockwork, head propped up on Taeyong’s lap. Taeyong’s fingers would massage patterns into his scalp, then words become unnecessary to them after that.

Taeyong’s mind sifts through their experiences together, as he pets Jaehyun’s head. 

He knows that Jaehyun understands, more than anyone else, that Taeyong speaks through his actions. 

People have always thought of him to be too withdrawn, convinced he was an antisocial guy with no plans of befriending anyone. But he’s just a wallflower, content with being in the sidelines. It takes time for him to open up to others.

Sometimes all he wants to do is sit still and observe all that’s happening around him. 

Other times he just wants to be left alone. 

And yet everyone else thinks of all this as cold composure, when Taeyong has anything but.

It’s a miracle that Jaehyun, ever concerned and caring, knows this. He’s infuriatingly flawless, but Taeyong’s awkwardness was a force he had to reckon with. 

And yet, while getting past Taeyong’s defenses was a mountain he had to climb over, Jaehyun took his time and unknowingly planted himself into Taeyong’s heart. 

Now he knows all about Taeyong’s shy demeanor, and need for space. Jaehyun knows how much patience and perseverance there is to be had when it comes to dealing with Taeyong, because the older boy’s awkward as and socially inept. 

Taeyong’s made up of a lot of mediocrity, and he’s sure Jaehyun knows this.

Still. 

Still, he accepts him.

Because no one but Jaehyun holds Taeyong’s hands, when everybody else says the latter’s too intimidating of a person to approach. Because it’s Jaehyun who speaks up for him when he doesn’t know what to say to people. 

Dear, sweet Jaehyun is the one who holds him throughout the night, whispering soft words of love and praise whenever Taeyong curls in on himself and breaks under all that outside pressure.

He adores Jaehyun so much, so much that he can’t handle how his heart explodes at the thought of having this boy’s attention––his care, his love.

And yet he doesn't know how to pay back all that love through beautiful words and sweet promises. He’s clueless, coming up short on how he could show Jaehyun just how grateful he is to have him and how important he is in Taeyong’s life. 

But he tries anyway, supporting him in all the small ways he could. 

He might not be the most eloquent person, nor can he pretend to be suave for his life, but Taeyong does his best to be sincere to him.

And so he comes back from his thoughts, where he finds himself doing this: tenderly petting this boy whose smile is too bright and heart too wide for this world. 

Taeyong smiles down at him, heart swelling at the sight of Jaehyun so contentedly sleeping away on their kitchen counter. 

He only has a short moment of admiration after, before he feels the boy give into eventual stirrings, no doubt compelled to know just who’s been touching him without his knowledge. 

Jaehyun blinks, sleepy.

A heartbeat later, he falls out of his pleasant dreams and into the waking world.

Taeyong hushes out a word, tone tentative. 

“Hi.”

He expects Jaehyun to still be caught up in sleep, anticipating a minute or two of waiting. 

Instead, Jaehyun is all smiles, face brilliant and satisfied after hearing that whispered word. 

Taeyong chokes on a gasp. His heart fills like a balloon. 

“Hi yourself, hyung.” 

And there it is. That goddamn blinding smile.

He’s so weak for it.

There’s so much affection he wants to bestow on this amazing boy, that he’s enveloped entirely by a want to convey it, but with no concrete means to do so. 

Taeyong feels like crying, confused how to begin showing the immense adoration he has for Jaehyun, only able to settle on stepping closer to the boy and firmly embracing him to his chest.

A warmth that’s he’s already become so familiar with starts to seep into his bones at the contact, and his thoughts from before echo within. 

As much as he does these comforting gestures so Jaehyun can relax after a long day, who’s to say he doesn’t need the contact just as much?

Hopeless, so hopeless, he woefully reminds himself, grip tightening a fraction. 

He really is. 

And yet, surprisingly, he finds that he doesn’t care.

(He still kind of wants to cry, though.)

At Taeyong’s sudden embrace, Jaehyun’s eyes widen. The unexpected touch is startling, but not unwelcome. He breathes in his hyung’s scent, eyes unconsciously falling half-mast, helplessly feeling warm and secure within the older’s embrace. 

His hands move of their own accord, arms encircling the older boy’s tiny waist, and he pulls him impossibly closer. 

There’s no doubt that Taeyong was here with him in their home this morning. They’d shared breakfast in this kitchen, bid each other goodbye at the front door. They passed by each other during lunch time to make sure the other was eating just fine, both too busy with their individual coursework to have lunch together. 

They’d seen each other in fleeting moments, made sure to tell each other that they were alright, and yet still. 

Still, Jaehyun’s missed him.

“Hyung, welcome back.” He starts, voice sounding unused after his nap, muffled through the fabric of Taeyong’s sweater.

“Mhmm. I’m back.”

There’s a reassurance that surges through him when he hears those words. 

Because as relieving as it was to welcome Taeyong with an armful of warmth, being able to listen to his hyung’s voice grounds him, even though he knows how softspoken of a person Taeyong is. 

It lets him know that he’s not being pushed away, that Taeyong is alright being in his arms. It spells out the feelings his actions don’t provide.

He smiles into Taeyong’s chest. And he knows that if he looks up, he knows his hyung is wearing the same expression. 

A comforting hand slides down to Jaehyun’s nape. 

He lets it stay there.

Taeyong slowly brings the younger boy’s face away from his chest, wanting to look at him. 

He needs to see those brown eyes he’s come to love for a long while now. 

Jaehyun’s eyes always beckon to him like melted chocolate. They’re limitless pools of brown looking at him, through him, sparking with a happiness Jaehyun’s only reserved for him. 

Which he doesn’t understand, because he’s never really associated such a thing with himself. He honestly doesn’t know why Jaehyun wants to be with him, wants him more than anyone else who’s liked him. 

It’s difficult, telling himself that he deserves all of Jaehyun’s time and affections. The frustration eats him up, how someone so perfect showers him with undivided, undeserving attention.

Taeyong dusts off the crumbs that had gotten stuck to the younger boy’s cheeks, smile turning watery at how much he wanted to drown in Jaehyun’s endless browns. 

In those eyes, he sees again that promise from before.

It’s a constant thing now, seeing Jaehyun looking at him like forever is etched into every cell of his body. 

But Taeyong doesn’t believe in that. 

In his head, there’s a constant voice mocking him how unworthy he is of the things he wants so desperately. It rings inside his brain as he stares into Jaehyun’s eyes.

I don’t talk. A lot. And I, I’m a bit of a neat freak. 

I’m not that strong. And I’m not muscular. There’s not a lot going for me.

So I don’t…, he thinks, swallows.

I don’t deserve you.

But he so badly wants to.

Jaehyun notices how the older boy holds back from saying anything. Taeyong’s immersed himself into cleaning his face, the crumbs a result of a midnight mission to steal a snack or two from their pantry. 

He may not have known everything that went on in Taeyong’s head, but he’s always prided himself in knowing much of its inner workings. Jaehyun recognizes the subtle shift in his expression, knows the exact moment Taeyong’s fond smile turns a bit heartrending. 

He knows that Taeyong’s criticizing himself for being happy, for having this––them.

Not much ruffles Jaehyun’s feathers, because he’s happy for many things, and happier still to fight for what he thinks is right. And because he has so much to be grateful for, he’s never taken anything for granted, showing others that there are always things in life for people to cherish, that people deserve the happiness they’re given.

Jaehyun would like nothing more than for Taeyong to realize this.

“Hyung,” he says, but abruptly stops speaking further when Taeyong brushes his thumb against his lips, cleaning off the crumbs that had settled there. 

Jaehyun stares up at him, brown eyes seeking Taeyong’s in an attempt to dig deeper into his thoughts. 

But when he sees him, he suddenly finds it hard to breathe. 

Against the black of the night, the moonlight filters steadily through the kitchen window. Taeyong is draped with the moon’s luminescence, painfully gorgeous and wearing that sunset smile.

He’s a vision under the moon’s luster.

But what the younger boy becomes transfixed on is that watery grin, wishing he could make it happier, and more fulfilled. 

Yet all he can do is hold onto Taeyong tighter, slim but sure fingers interlocking behind this boy whose smile is too forlorn, but whose love Jaehyun believes deserves to be reciprocated in full.

Taeyong purses his lips when all the crumbs have fallen away. All he can think about is how beautiful Jaehyun is, how wonderful it is to be in his arms. 

“Jaehyunnie, you’re so messy.” 

His thumb hovers over the seam of the younger boy’s lips. At that, the lids on Jaehyun’s eyes fall slowly, eventually mirroring the face he wore when Taeyong walked in as he found him sleeping. 

Taeyong is mesmerized. 

He draws in a stuttered breath, feeling weightless at the sight of the boy’s lashes fluttering closed. Trembling fingers gently Jaehyun’s cheeks, tracing circular patterns along them until they eventually tuck a lock of hair behind the boy’s ear. 

Taeyong doesn’t register the moment he falls forward, quiet and unassuming. He doesn’t remember just when his eyes close and his lips softly meet Jaehyun’s forehead. 

It takes him a second to realize the multitude of praises lost on his tongue. He thinks of all the things he wants to say to him, wants to talk about all his happy moments today, but everything simply falls by the wayside. 

And yet he minds none. 

He doesn’t mind his inability to verbalize his feelings, undeterred from showering this boy with all the love he can give. 

If he should ever deserve Jaehyun someday, then every sense he has can fade away, so long as he can cradle and kiss perfection––just like this.

Everything stills for a second or two when he suddenly startles at the firm hand that grabs onto his wrist. Taeyong immediately opens his eyes. He isn’t prepared to see himself, reflected in those brown irises. 

There isn’t a smile to admire on Jaehyun’s handsome face, no distinct quirk of his lips to belie his feelings. But the warmth Taeyong’s always been yearning for, the warmth he wants to be engulfed in, is present in those eyes. 

“Hyung.” Jaehyun’s mellow voice calls out to him. 

This time, he listens. 

Because behind that one syllable, he can hear what this boy did not say outright. 

“Taeyongie-hyung. You belong here. With me.”

And he wants to believe that. 

If Jaehyun is saying so, then maybe it’s true. 

Maybe this is real. 

Jaehyun looks up at him, brown eyes reminding Taeyong. They’re reminding him that wanting this, them, is alright. 

There’s a fire that burns brightly behind his eyes, and Taeyong knows all his worries and insecurities can do no justice against Jaehyun’s beliefs. Not when he wants to be loved by this man. Not when this man, so generous and beautiful and perfect, wants to choose forever by his side. 

With just a word or a look, Jaehyun washes away all the anxieties Taeyong ties around his heart.

“You deserve this, us. You have me.”

And Taeyong just…lets go.

All too quickly, a smile worms its way onto his face. Then a giggle bubbles up in his throat as he throws his head back, eyes crinkling. 

Such a fool, he thinks again of himself, such a lovestruck fool. 

And Jaehyun must have known his thoughts, because a sunshine smile replaces the serious look he had on his face from moments before, happiness now a mirror between the two of them. 

Taeyong plants a big kiss on the boy’s cheek without warning, enjoying the way Jaehyun sputters at the unexpected bout of affection. 

So precious, he describes him in his head, adoring.

He wants this to be his always.

“You ate my cookies again.” Taeyong suddenly quips, the scolding coming out of nowhere. But Jaehyun knows it’s too fond to be taken at face-value. 

He also knows that his hyung hasn’t really forgotten where they are: in the middle of their kitchen, with their snacks haphazardly scattered about on the counter. The bag of chocolate chip cookies that Taeyong bought before, his favorite, is almost empty, and Jaehyun is the only possible culprit. 

In a matter of minutes the small clutter Jaehyun made will need to be cleaned up, and he whines at the older boy to let him off the hook, which only succeeds him in getting a forehead flick.

Yet Jaehyun appreciates it all the same. 

Because this is simply how Taeyong is, a little too clean and meticulous, a tad too naggy about the smallest things. 

And entirely wholesome. Entirely worth listening to. 

Absolutely worth loving.

At that thought, Jaehyun is inwardly comforted.

“Clean up with me?” He suggests, cheeky.

Of course, this isn’t the last time he’ll have to assuage the tremors in Taeyong’s thoughts. He doesn’t know anyone more stubborn about his own faults than this gorgeous boy, who’s unbelieving of how good he is, how enrapturing he is inside out. 

Taeyong doesn’t see himself the way Jaehyun does. He’s always hastily putting himself down should the occasion ever stand for it, unable to see beyond the faults he has and the mistakes he’s made in the past. 

But Jaehyun knows, in the hands that are grasping him tightly, that no one is gentler and more devoted than Taeyong. 

His greatest frustration rests in the same place as his surest joy, in the form of this boy in front of him, whose fingers are pressing against his nape, drawing light patterns into his skin, telling of all the love he could offer to Jaehyun should he just ask.

He finds that, just for now, he doesn’t care if Taeyong submits to his own insecurities. 

When he has all the time in the world to fight him for this, for them––all his doubts to make Taeyong believe that this is all worth it ebbs away.

His hands reach up, touching the older boy’s nape in reciprocation. Pulling Taeyong to fall against him is easy, nose coming into contact with the older boy’s cheek. He inhales the scent he’s missed since this morning, when they woke up wrapped around each other. 

Taeyong is the one who falters now, seemingly caught unguarded by their sudden intimacy. Jaehyun arranges them more comfortably, depositing a blushing Taeyong on his lap to make him face him, indulging in his own mood to tease. 

As his hands find home resting on the small of the older boy’s back, Jaehyun tilts his head up, lips seeking the other boy’s, wanting just a bit more than their usual touches.

The kiss is soft, unhurried. But Taeyong is softer, and Jaehyun is well appreciative of how pliant he feels within his embrace. They close their eyes simultaneously, awash with the feeling of contentment and solace. 

The fingers on Jaehyun’s nape travel upwards, entangling with the strands of his hair, while his own hands press against the skin of Taeyong’s waist, needing to touch him and be certain they were together in this. 

They kiss slowly, not seeking any escalation, only fervent in being able to touch and hold each other, reaffirm that this is exactly where they want to be, where they’re meant to be. 

There’s a muted desperation underneath the pads of Taeyong’s fingers, and Jaehyun relishes in it. Despite Taeyong’s efforts to convince himself he can’t have this, the younger boy knows he’s melting into this kiss, into the two of them. 

Taeyong wants what he thinks he doesn’t deserve, doesn’t fully understand how deep his desires run––but Jaehyun does. 

He tightens his hold on this boy, whom he considers his utmost happines, his entire world, and tells him through the pursuit of their lips, “I love you”.

And if Taeyong should ever doubt him, Jaehyun will fly to the moon and back if that’s what it takes to prove it to him.

“I love you,” Jaehyun whispers in the crux of their kiss. “I love you.”

Taeyong feels like drowning. 

He kisses back, like he’s finally surrendered.

Free. The thought is quiet, but it resounds in his head. 

I am free. 

And he is––he is happy.

~

The sunlight smoothly silhouettes Jaehyun’s sleeping form. 

He’s underneath their thin blanket, the cascade of sleep still tumbling back and forth against his consciousness, and he’s made into a wanted companion by the man who adores him.

Taeyong watches him sleep, and notes how even without those passionate brown eyes taking him apart piece by piece, the boy beside him still brings him reassurance, still steals his breath away just by existing.

He looks at him, and all Taeyong sees is “home”.

This is what he’s always come home to.

The tears arrive, and he welcomes them. After all, they mean nothing but happiness right now.

Maybe, when Jaehyun wakes up, body still holding onto the vestiges of sleep, he will jokingly say to him, “hey, darling”.

Such a lovestruck fool, and Taeyong admits to it now. 

Because without question, and without expectation of reciprocation, he loves Jaehyun. 

And no matter how long it will take him to deserve perfection, no matter how impossible it may seem like to believe he is worthy of this man––he will try. 

For Jaehyun.

For Jaehyun.

-fin-

i'm so so so sososososooo sorry!!!!!!

it took me like––eons to finish this. i don't have any excuses, except that i fell out of the fandom. //sobs

i originally planned on making this longer, like a multi-chaptered story, but i just couldn't do it, and i don't think i'll plan on doing it anymore. //head desks

but i hope this soothed a bit of the sting from that. i only wanted to finish just this, so i can tell myself i can write again. i hadn't the strength to post anything until i could finish this story, because it was like a curse that i needed to break HAHAHA so please, i hope you were able to enjoy this short piece.

thank you so much for your patience! y'all are beautiful, and i'm eternally indebted.