Kyungsoo had wanted to write. Desperately so. It had been months since he last posted anything, and his fingers had itched to grab a pen and his old notebook and just let all his pent up ideas flow.

So he tried. He made himself a smoothy, unearthed his writing materials, and settled into the welcoming embrace of his bed, a pillow tucked behind him for support. Fingers nearly trembling from excitement, he opened the black, leather clad notebook, his breath catching in his throat from anticipation. Slowly slipping past pages already overflowing with blank ink, he kept turning until he found a fresh one, the creamy page blank and inviting. He finally brought his pen to the page and… realized he mind was as empty of ideas as the paper staring back at him.

He glared down at it for a while before grudgingly acknowledging that the page itself would spark no creativity. Sighing, he gently placed the pen down in the crook between pages, and shifted his legs off the bed, slipping his feet into the slippers waiting there.

It shouldn’t be this hard. There had been prompts he had been contemplating, characters he had wanted to flesh out, and yet… and yet when he went to write them, none of those seemed interesting. He didn’t care for a single one.

He padded silently into the kitchen, brow furrowed in frustration, and snagged some leftovers from the fridge. Perhaps he just needed more time to prepare, perhaps he needed to find something else to inspire him. A movie? A walk outside? A game? Music?

Ah. Music.

Kyungsoo wandered into another part of the house, pushing open the door adjacent to his own office. Music. Kyungsoo could sing, but here he found the real musician, hunched over some piece that he probably couldn’t seem to get quite right.

Kyungsoo watched Chanyeol work for a minute, eyes following the strong curve of his shoulders, down the long lines of his back before flicking back to his elegant fingers tapping some unfamiliar rhythm as he concentrated. Kyungsoo wanted to reach over and grab those hands, kiss them, but he knew better than to interrupt in such a way. Chanyeol would pull off his headphones and come back to the world when he was ready, and Kyungsoo had learned long ago that it was best not to disturb the creative process when the other was working. Kyungsoo himself was the same, after all.

After a minute of watching his husband from the doorway, Kyungsoo quietly closed it once more and wandered back to bed, where his notebook still lay open and waiting for him. He stared at it, mulling over an idea for a moment before settling in once more and taking up his pen. This time, the words seemed to flow effortlessly.

“It was something in the broad slope of his shoulders, in his towering height and long fingers - something he couldn’t explain. The way the man’s laughter could fill up the room, but also the way he almost seemed to disappear when he became absorbed in his own world, his incessant tapping the only noise to fill his silence as he worked… there was just something about the other man, and his heart never failed to clench at the thought of him.

He hated him for it.”

Kyungsoo grinned. Chanyeol was going to get a kick out of this one.