Taekwoon wakes up with a splitting headache, the pain travelling from the top of his head down to his chest as he cracks one eye open. The bedroom is filled with sunlight filtered through the dark red blackout curtains, making it seem as if sundown is happening right inside the room—or more like the place is on fire.

Taekwoon pushes himself up on the bed with a groan. His limbs feel like someone switched them to legs and arms made of stone while he was asleep. He feels oddly nauseous, too, and his throat is sore, his lips like half dried papier-mâché framing his parched mouth. It’s as if he’s hungover, even though he hasn’t even touched alcohol in a week.

He spends a couple of minutes sitting on the edge of the bed, looking down at his toes, silently trying to charm them to move, but his upper body—including his throbbing head—isn’t quite ready to turn around just yet.

Taekwoon rubs at his face with his palms and takes a deep breath, straightening his back a little to stretch.

The other side of the bed is empty, the duvet thrown over the mattress as though someone had tangled into it and had to fight a monster under the covers to escape. Taekwoon wonders how long Sanghyuk has been out.

The clock on the wall informs him that it’s 11.38 as Taekwoon shuffles over to the kitchen, still in his white and blue striped pyjama bottoms and a faded Nirvana t-shirt he had stolen from Sanghyuk back when the boy had been still in high school, wearing shirts two sizes larger. At first Sanghyuk had been miffed, but then he’d seen Taekwoon wear the tee all the time and thought it’d suited Taekwoon much better than it had him—or so he said. Taekwoon had rather thought he’d just got tired of whining about it.

The carafe of the coffee machine is empty, Sanghyuk didn’t brew him coffee like he usually does, and Taekwoon suddenly feels sad about the lack of black liquid in the glass container. He knows it’s because of what happened last night and he also knows he shouldn’t have expected Sanghyuk to relent so easily, but he still feels a pang in his chest and some tiny pinpricks in his eyes. He fills the machine with water and coffee, turning it on and looking for his favourite mug (a silly one with ‘#1 BOYFRIEND’ written on it that Sanghyuk gave him for their first Christmas as a couple) in the cupboard, but finding it nowhere. He looks into the sink and under a plastic bowl, he sees a white, chipped edge.

Where did it go so wrong?

He reaches under the bowl to take his poor broken mug out, inspecting the damage and the weight of last night’s events finally sinks in. Taekwoon washes the mug, thinking about how he most literally threw it into the sink when Sanghyuk said, “You know what? this,” and stormed out of the place, only to return more than an hour later.

It was the same old story all over. Sanghyuk made a joke about Taekwoon behaving like an 80-year-old grandpa, and that joke was followed by several others of the same topic, until Taekwoon lashed out at him, telling Sanghyuk he was a child and should finally grow up. It led to an intense fight about the point of them having been together for so many years, and then Sanghyuk just… left. He came back when Taekwoon had already cocooned himself into his duvet, lying awake in bed while Sanghyuk showered and then lay down next to him, and even after Sanghyuk started snoring sometime around dawn. That was the point where his headache started and ironically, its rhythmic throbbing managed to lull Taekwoon to sleep.

A painkiller would just leave him feel guilty for choosing the easy way to get over the problem.

He closes the tap and his eyes narrow at how wrinkly his hands have become from the water. He dries the mug with a dishcloth and pours some coffee for himself, sitting down on a chair by the kitchen table, staring at his own reflection on the surface of his beverage. He has a pair of bags under his eyes.

He hears the doorknob of the front door click and then the rustling of a plastic bag, Sanghyuk taking his shoes and coat off. Taekwoon glances up when Sanghyuk enters the kitchen, automatically leaning in to kiss Taekwoon hello, as if nothing happened last night. Just as he always does.

“I brought orange chicken,” Sanghyuk announces, placing the bag on the counter to take the boxes out.

“And spring rolls?” Taekwoon asks quietly, feeling the knots in his stomach loosen.

“Spring rolls and fortune cookies, too,” Sanghyuk replies with a small smile that makes Taekwoon’s heart skip a beat.

Sanghyuk puts the boxes on the table, handing Taekwoon a pair of wooden chopsticks, sitting down opposite him and digging into his food calmly, as if the elephant in the room isn’t staring daggers at both of them. Taekwoon splits his own chopsticks apart and opens his box of orange chicken, following Sanghyuk’s gaze when he notices Taekwoon’s mug on the table, looking away when he sees the chipped edge.

Taekwoon can’t take his eyes off Sanghyuk, picking at his food while his boyfriend shoves everything into his mouth, and Taekwoon only realizes why it’s so difficult for him to look away when Sanghyuk lets out a shuddery breath and accidentally drops a piece of chicken from how hard his hand is shaking.

“Are you alright?” Taekwoon asks.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” Sanghyuk replies quickly and lowers his head so the distance between the food and his mouth is shorter. Taekwoon can’t ignore the way Sanghyuk bites his lip for a split second.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m fine!” Sanghyuk says in an unusually high-pitched tone.

“Sanghyuk…”

His boyfriend glances up then and he looks pale, save for the small blush that appears on his cheeks as he stares at Taekwoon with wide eyes. Taekwoon is so confused.

“Okay,” Sanghyuk says suddenly to himself and pushes back his chair, striding out of the kitchen.

“Sanghyuk?”

Taekwoon turns around to see where he’s going and sees Sanghyuk opening the closet in their bedroom, rummaging through his clothes fervently, throwing his jeans on the floor. He soon seems to find what he’s been looking for, because he pulls his hands back, holding a rather small, navy blue box in one of them.

Taekwoon has a very strange feeling about this.

Time seems to slow down as Sanghyuk makes his way back into the kitchen, now most literally tearing the skin off his lower lip with his teeth. He stops in front of Taekwoon with the box at eye level for the older, sitting between Sanghyuk’s fingers threateningly.

“Hyung—”

Taekwoon jumps to his feet so fast it feels like lightning has struck him and colours pop in front of his eyes for a second before he belatedly hears the loud bang and at the same time, feels the pain coursing from the top of his head down to his little toe.

“!” he curses, pressing his hands on his head as if that would make it hurt less, bending over in an attempt to get away from the shelf he just hit his head into.

“Oh my God,” Sanghyuk mumbles, reaching up, most probably to stop the tiny potted cactus from falling off the shelf.

“I think I’ve fractured my skull,” Taekwoon whines, tears collecting in his eyes.

“I’m pretty sure you haven’t,” Sanghyuk says and puts the box on the table, so he can cradle Taekwoon’s head to his chest, pecking his hair carefully.

They stand in silence until Taekwoon can feel a bump forming on top of his head, the warm pulsing of it echoing his already present headache.

“Maybe you should sit down,” Sanghyuk says softly and lets go of him.

Taekwoon takes the advice, thudding back down on the chair, squinting at the small box before looking up at Sanghyuk. Sanghyuk sighs.

“What’s going on, Hyuk-ah?” Taekwoon asks, voice strangled.

Sanghyuk touches the velvety box and takes it into his hands once again, inspecting it as if it’s the first time he’s seeing it.

“This is… I know the timing isn’t right, but… I’ve been meaning to do this for a long time.”

“How long?”

“Long enough that it’s time I actually did it now,” Sanghyuk answers, smiling weakly at Taekwoon. “This is why I was so… worked up last night. I wanted to do it last night, but I was so anxious and it just got the better of me and I ended up hurting you. I’m so sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too,” Taekwoon says and he feels so small, so stupid. “I was so childish.”

“We both were,” Sanghyuk nods, his smile widening. “But…” he says, supporting himself on Taekwoon’s thigh as he lowers himself, stopping when one of his knees touches the floor. At the same time, Taekwoon’s heart starts fluttering inside his chest and the bump throbs more aggressively on his head. “But I think we can balance each other out and maybe grow up together. If you want.”

Taekwoon hasn’t even noticed Sanghyuk opening the box to reveal the ring. All he can see is Sanghyuk’s warm, sincere, clever eyes that pulled him in the first time they met; the eyes that have promised him so much and so far have kept every one of those promises.

Back when they started dating, Sanghyuk promised he’d make Taekwoon happy and Taekwoon had truly never been as happy in the past as he has been with Sanghyuk.

His hands move on their own as he cups Sanghyuk’s cheeks and pulls him a bit closer, kissing him deeply, because Taekwoon has never been good at putting his thoughts and feelings into words, and because he doesn’t think he could say anything that would express how much he loves Sanghyuk better than kissing him breathless.

When he pulls away, Sanghyuk’s blush has deepened and Taekwoon feels his own face heating up as well when he sees how sparkly Sanghyuk’s pretty eyes have become.

“Can I take that as a yes?” Sanghyuk laughs.

Taekwoon pecks his lips twice and kisses him again, pulling him up so he can hug Sanghyuk tight enough that he can feel Sanghyuk’s heartbeat in his own chest.

The ring doesn’t get on Taekwoon’s finger until much later that day, but when Sanghyuk finally puts it on for him, Taekwoon decides never to take it off.

And when they finally go to bed that night, Taekwoon promises Sanghyuk to make him as happy as he already is.