Jiyong traces his finger lightly along the face of the man sleeping in front of him. So peaceful, Jiyong cannot help but to smile at the innocent face resting in a deep sleep in front of him. This doesn’t get old- watching him sleeping like this. Even though his own eyes are betraying him- he can barely keep them open, his body is tired. But he doesn’t want to miss this.

Steadily he breathes in and out, hoping that the loud thumping in his chest does not disturb the sleeping man in front of him. Jiyong examines every curve and line on the serene face in front of him- the bold lines of eyebrows, the long-feathery eyelashes, the perfectly curved nose, the slightly parted lips. Jiyong bites his lips when his sight lands on that pink lips- trying not to smother it senseless here and now. He continues his gaze down to his neck, grinning like an idiot remembering how many love bites he’d left there only to have the other man complaining about it the next morning, “See, now I have to wear those turtlenecks again.” Jiyong is obsessed with that neck where he always finds that soft nook so comforting; he never fails to snuggle into it whenever he has the chance.

But when his gaze arrives at the man’s right hand, his breath chokes in his throat. The bandaged hand. When Jiyong first got a text from his manager about the injury, his initial reaction was to get into his car and drive all the way to the filming location. Luckily, he was virtually strapped onto a chair- getting his make up- for some event he can’t even remember now. Frantically, he called him up. Of course no one picked up. He tried the manager, the driver and even tried calling the director himself, but no one replied. He spent 30 minutes fidgeting on his chair, glancing at his phone every 5 seconds. His stylist even tried to comfort him, “I’m sure he’s fine. Trust me.” But not until his phone rang a few minutes later could he be calm, “Hey. Sorry I missed your call. I’m fine. Wanted to text you but I think my left fingers disagree with keypads.” And Jiyong smiled- relieved- he’s the one injured but he still managed to make Jiyong smile.

Today, Jiyong has a day off. He was supposed to go visit his family but instead, he sneaked out at dawn, sleep betrayed him so he went out- tugging his hoodies tight- and got into his car. He drove to the hospital with a heavy heart as Seoul was slowly waking up. When he got to the room, slowly he slipped through the door and closed it as soundless as he could behind him- careful not to wake up the peacefully sleeping boy. Jiyong’s heart crumbled at the sight of the skinny boy curling like a little baby missing his mother’s warm cuddle- with his hand heavily bandaged. He instinctively brushes his finger on the sleeping man’s cheek. But his eyes flickered open, Jiyong panicked, “Sorry. So sorry. Did I wake you?”

The man looked mystified, definitely tired and his voice was groggy, “No. Couldn’t sleep. What are you doing here? What time is it?” He proceeded to shuffle around, looking for his phone.

“Probably around 5AM? Hey don’t move around, your hand-“ Jiyong couldn’t continue. His heart hurt, his throat choked.

“I’m fine, Ji.” The other man smiled, sat himself up a little bit on the bed.

“Does it hurt?”

“No, not anymore. It was a little bit, but painkillers work wonders. I am not feeling any pain nor can I feel my hand at all actually...”

Jiyong felt relieved- he was making jokes and at least, he was not in pain. Jiyong’s lips curved up, trying to hold back a chuckle.

“Wanna come up here?” The man lightly tapped the ample space on the hospital bed next to where he’s sitting. Jiyong took off his sneakers and climbed up on the bed- slipped himself snugly inside the blanket. Jiyong immediately weaved his fingers’ with Seunghyun’s, gently pulling their bodies into each other's warmth. They were on their sides facing each other- slightly crammed on that small hospital bed. Seunghyun pulled their tangled hands close to his chest. No words needed to express their longing to be just like this- next to each other, lost in each other’s gaze, breathing each other’s air. And it felt right, it felt complete.

“Sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.” Jiyong assured him.

“No. You sleep. Your dark circles can’t lie.”

“Oh and your eyebags can? Just go back to sleep, will ya?” Jiyong whispered softly.

The injured man chuckled, then slowly he moved- kissing their joined hands and then Jiyong’s head, “Thank you for coming.”

Jiyong shifted gently and planted a soft kiss on the pink lips in front of him, “Sleep tight, Seunghyun.”

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