It was tradition. That was the only way of really putting it. Laughter filled the air of Chaeyeon’s apartment, and Jongin felt particularly light on his feet today.

Sehun tried to put his head in Chaeyeon’s lap, and much to Jongin’s amusement, she looked down with a single cocked eyebrow and shoved him straight off, “I’m not your couch cushion.”

“You’re Jongin’s,” Sehun grumbled, to which she had a fast response.

“I’m not Jongin’s anything. I’m not a possession.”

Pride filled Jongin’s chest. She got it. She really did. Even though they had been thousands of miles apart, they had grown into two separate people that weren’t defined by each other. So when he walked to the couch and they made eye contact, his eyes flickered to her lap in a silent question.

And she nodded with a slight smile, giving him permission, and he laid down, tilting his head back on to her thighs and eyes fluttering shut.

“What? You let him do it!”

“He asked for permission.”

“He didn’t say a single thing out loud,” Chanyeol said slowly, as if trying to explain to someone who didn’t quite understand.

Chaeyeon just shrugged, but Jongin knew they didn’t need to vocalize anything to communicate to each other. They were still used to each other’s habits, and even though they had changed, they knew each other.

He flicked up the sleeves of the soft, bla