It had been years, at least five of them, since Seunghyun had gotten a full night’s rest. The insomnia had crept up on him in his last semester of university. The stress of writing his thesis mounted and mounted until he found himself waking on a Monday morning, and not shutting his eyes again until Friday night. Things got a little better once he finally graduated, but there were still stretches of time where he might not see the backs of his eyelids for days. When he did manage to rest, his slumber came in fits and starts.

Until the evening of September 23^rd.

He remembered the exact date because it had been his mother’s birthday. He’d just returned from celebrating the occasion with his family, prepared to put on a pot of coffee and Netflix his way through another sleepless night, when he heard a noise coming from just across the small alleyway that separated the two main buildings of his apartment complex.  It sounded like someone humming, or singing, and it was surprisingly pleasant. Seunghyun had once had an upstairs neighbor who liked to serenade him from the shower, and that had been anything but pleasant. This sound, though…

Seunghyun slid open the glass door that opened onto his tiny balcony, and plopped himself down into the plastic deck chair in the corner to listen. It was someone singing, and the song was a familiar one; his mother had sung the same thing to him as a child whenever he’d come crying to her after waking from a nightmare. It had been soothing then, and was soothing now, and soon enough Seunghyun’s eyelids began to droop. He was on the verge of unconsciousness when a flash of something caught his nearly-shut eye, and he realized the singing had grown louder. Suddenly the wonderful sound stopped, and Seunghyun rubbed his face drowsily as he frowned at the loss of his sleep aid.

“You shouldn’t sleep outside, you know,” came a soft, melodious voice. “You’ll catch a cold.”

Seunghyun was wide awake now, and as he blinked to clear his fuzzy eyes and head he caught sight of the person who had spoken. A man, or a boy maybe, certainly no older than himself, with long, light brown hair and perfectly almond-shaped eyes was watching him with a small smirk on his full lips. He didn’t realize he’d been staring until the other man cleared his throat.

“Oh, um… Yeah. I mean, I know. I mean… thanks,” he finished lamely, ears burning with embarrassment. Seunghyun stood to shuffle awkwardly back inside his apartment, but the long-haired boy called out to him just as he gripped the handle of the sliding glass door.

“Were you listening to me sing just now?” he asked. His tone wasn’t accusatory, more curious, but Seunghyun still cringed at the question. He debated denying it, but the hopeful look on the boy’s face when he turned to say ‘no’ caused the word to die on his lips. Instead he found himself staring at the boy again, transfixed by the way the wind stirred his caramel-colored hair; long strands of it stuck to his lips and chin and swept across the bridge of his nose, lazily dancing in the cool fall breeze. When his neighbor smiled, all Seunghyun could see was his brilliantly white teeth and pink gums.

“My name’s Jiyong,” the boy said, grin only growing wider when his voice startled Seunghyun, and his heel banged into the glass door behind him. “What’s yours?”

“S-Seunghyun,” he answered. He could feel his entire face turning red; his skin was prickling with the heat of his utter mortification at having been caught staring at this boy twice.

“So were you listening to me sing, Seunghyun?” Jiyong asked again, pulling his long, unruly hair out from in front of his face. He tucked it behind his ears, and Seunghyun couldn’t help but notice they were the smallest, most adorable ears he’d ever seen.

“Uh, yeah. Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry; I don’t mind.”

Seunghyun felt Jiyong’s eyes on him as he fidgeted nervously, wondering if the boy was going to say anything else, or if it would be rude of him to just turn around and slink back inside with his tail tucked between his legs. Before he had the chance to do anything other than squirm under Jiyong’s scrutiny, the boy across the small alleyway began to hum the same song he’d been singing earlier. Seunghyun immediately felt himself relax. He blinked once-more sleepy eyes at Jiyong, who had propped his chin on top of interlaced fingers as he leaned on the metal railing of his balcony. By the time Jiyong had finished his lullaby, Seunghyun was slumped into his deck chair again, head lolling precariously on top of his shoulders.

“You really should go inside now, Seunghyun,” Jiyong called out to him, pulling him back from the edge of slumber. “It’s gonna get cold tonight.”

He didn’t remember walking back into his apartment. He didn’t remember falling into bed fully clothed. The last thing Seunghyun remembered from that night, before waking up the next morning after at least eight glorious hours of sleep, was laughing brown eyes and long hair that danced on the wind.

They made a habit of ‘accidentally’ meeting on their respective balconies every night. Jiyong would sit in his wicker lounge with a cup of what Seunghyun assumed was tea (he couldn’t imagine the other man drinking coffee, for some reason), and he would sing lullabies and folk songs Seunghyun remembered from childhood. For his part, Seunghyun merely bundled himself in a thick blanket, curled up on his cheap plastic chair, and listened to the dulcet tones of Jiyong’s soft voice until he fell asleep. Each time he finally nodded off, Jiyong would rouse him, and they’d return to the warmth of their homes. For nearly a month, Seunghyun slept soundly, deeply, and restfully.

October had been hard on his company’s business, however, and as the low man on the totem pole, Seunghyun felt the brunt of his higher-ups’ displeasure. His work load had suddenly doubled, and he’d found himself staying at the office until all hours of the night. He missed several evenings on the balcony with Jiyong, so when he finally came home on time one Thursday, he wasn’t entirely surprised that Jiyong didn’t show up on his balcony at their ‘appointed’ time. Not surprised, but oddly disappointed all the same. Determined not to cry about how unfair life was being to him, Seunghyun marched into his kitchen and put on a pot of coffee.

He’d just taken one long, satisfying gulp of overly-sweetened caffeine when there came a light tapping at his front door. At least he thought it was at his door. The sound was so faint it could have been coming from any of his neighbors, but when he made no move to answer the noise with ‘coming!’ or ‘hold on a minute!’, it happened again. Louder this time. Someone was definitely knocking on his door. When he trudged across his living room to open it, he could hardly believe his eyes as to who was on the other side.

Jiyong, in a pair of light blue pajamas, holding up a bag of tea.

“You haven’t been coming outside recently.”

“Yeah, I… work,” Seunghyun fumbled, driven to awkwardness by Jiyong’s unexpected appearance. Jiyong didn’t seem to notice his discomfort, and if he did he said nothing, for which Seunghyun was infinitely grateful. The long-haired boy sniffed the air and peeked over the taller man’s shoulder, lips tilting down into a frown when he saw the full pot of coffee on the burner.

“Coffee won’t help you sleep,” he admonished lightly. Seunghyun nodded, eyes traveling from Jiyong’s face down to his slippered feet.

“Can I come in?”

And then he was, and he bustled around Seunghyun’s kitchen like he lived there too. Seunghyun didn’t try to talk to him while he puttered about making the tea he’d brought with him. He didn’t know what to say that wouldn’t sound creepy. Your voice is the only thing that has given me a full night’s rest in five years. Sometimes when I’m sad I think about you singing me a lullaby, and I start grinning like an idiot. You’re beautiful. Oh yeah, none of that sounded creepy at all.

When he was finally done with the tea, Jiyong sat a steaming mug of it in front of Seunghyun. He took a whiff. Flowers, and mint, and -his nose wrinkled as the smell hit him- dirty gym socks?

“What is this?” he asked, lip still curled at the unpleasant smell mixed in to the light floral-and-mint aroma. Jiyong chuckled and pushed the cup toward Seunghyun.

“It’s an herbal blend. It’ll help you sleep.”

“No, I mean what smells like feet?”

This time Jiyong snorted. “That’s valerian root. I swear you won’t taste it.”

Seunghyun eyed both Jiyong and the tea with what he felt was an appropriate amount of skepticism. He gripped the handle of the mug and bent over it again, taking in the unfamiliar and not-entirely-pleasant scent of the tea. Jiyong moved his own hand then, bringing his fingertips to rest lightly on the inside of Seunghyun’s wrist. The touch was gentle, simply a press of soft digits to his flesh, but where their skin met Seunghyun’s own tingled. He raised the mug to his lips, blew across the surface of the steaming liquid so he wouldn’t scald his mouth, and finally took one reluctant sip.

It was… good. It was more than good. If dreams had a taste, Seunghyun imagined the flavor would be very similar to the contents of his cup. He swallowed another few mouthfuls of the tea before setting the mug back onto the table and blinking at Jiyong in surprise. Already he could feel his tense muscles relaxing, could feel his mind working itself down from the high of all the stress he’d been under recently.

“Are you a wizard or something?” he asked, hardly registering that what was coming out of his mouth sounded ridiculous. “Or a fairy? You’re pretty enough to be a fairy.”

Jiyong chuckled at him for the second time that night, and ran the pad of his index finger over the swell of his bottom lip. “I’m not a wizard,” he laughed, “or a fairy.” When Seunghyun frowned, Jiyong gestured at him to keep drinking the tea. Seunghyun happily obliged. “My mother is an herbalist. She taught me a lot of what she knows. The tea’s what I drink when we sit outside. I make a batch of it whenever I take a trip home during the school year.”

“So… you’re in university, then?”

“I graduate next fall.”

“What about the singing?”

Jiyong smiled at him. Seunghyun felt his heart thump against his ribcage. He really was very pretty.

“My little brother used to have night terrors. Singing was the only thing that would pull him out of it, so I got used to singing him to sleep at night. Guess it’s just habit now.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes while Seunghyun drank the rest of the tea. As he swallowed the last of it, Jiyong rose and took the empty mug from him. Seunghyun knew he was about to leave, and he didn’t want that. He wanted the golden-haired boy to sing him one of those haunting melodies like he did when they sat outside together in the cold autumn air. He wanted to hear his soft, sweet voice gently lull him to sleep. They’d finally met face-to-face, and Seunghyun wanted that face to be the last thing he saw before his eyes slid shut.

Jiyong took a few steps toward the door, but before he passed, Seunghyun reached out and placed his fingers around his slim wrist, much as the other man had done earlier. Jiyong looked down at him, a question in his warm, brown eyes. Seunghyun swallowed his nerves and opened his mouth.

“W-would you sing a song for me before you go?” he asked, cringing at the way his voice shook with uncertainty. “I haven’t been able to sleep this week, and I… I miss hearing you sing.”

Jiyong seemed to be considering, but when he said nothing, Seunghyun dropped his wrist.

“Sorry,” he sighed, “that was weird. Thanks for the tea, Jiyong.”

“You know that’s the first time you’ve said my name?”

Seunghyun lifted his eyes from the wood grain of his tabletop to stare at the man in front of him. Was it? He couldn’t remember not having said it, but then again, he couldn’t remember uttering those two syllables. As much as his voice soothed Seunghyun’s nerves, Jiyong himself made the older man anxious. Not anxious in a bad way, but anxious all the same. When he did speak to him, he hardly ever did more than mutter half-sentences and apologies. He continued to stare as the smaller man walked over to his couch, placed one of the throw pillows on the furthest cushion, and patted the brown leather invitingly, all with a small smile on his face.

“Come lie down, and I’ll sing something for you.”

As surreal as the situation was, Seunghyun could not find it in him to object; after all, this is exactly what he’d wanted. Well, he hadn’t really considered lying down on his couch while a pajama-clad Jiyong sat on the floor with his back to him, but it was nicer than falling asleep at his kitchen table. Jiyong’s long hair spilled past his shoulders onto the couch, and as he started humming the opening bars of the first song Seunghyun had ever heard him sing, he couldn’t help but to reach out and wind a few of the honey-colored strands between his fingers. The boy’s voice hitched in his throat, and he turned his head to watch Seunghyun play with his hair. Only when he registered the loss of Jiyong’s voice did Seunghyun realize what he was doing.

“Sorry,” he whispered, neck and ears prickling with the heat of his flushed skin. Why was he always doing such weird things around this man? But Jiyong caught his fingers before he could pull them away from the silky tresses, and he shook his head.

“Don’t be sorry; I don’t mind.”

Jiyong’s voice picked up where it had left off, and Seunghyun’s fingers continued to and twist Jiyong’s long, caramel-colored hair. Less than a minute later, Seunghyun could hardly keep his eyes open. Jiyong’s voice was a magical thing, carting him gently off to sleep every time he opened his mouth. He felt Jiyong’s hair slide from his fingers, and then there were warm digits brushing across his cheek. His eyelids fluttered open briefly to see Jiyong giving him a fond look. It was something he thought he could definitely get used to.

“Good night, Seunghyun,” he whispered, sweeping a thumb over a thick, black eyebrow.

Seunghyun was so sleepy, so very relaxed, that he didn’t even blush at the intimate contact. Instead, he merely smiled back at the siren hovering over him.

“Good night, Jiyong.”

All he saw, all he felt, all he could hear before he finally drifted into blessed unconsciousness was Jiyong. It was the best sleep he could ever remember having. When he awoke the next morning to the sound and smell of someone cooking breakfast in his kitchen and found Jiyong frying eggs and bacon on his rarely-used stove, he knew it was the start of the best day he’d yet to have.