Prompt: “Ji and Tabi are very busy but they find the time to play in the snow (Could the story involve a snowman) and they end up making out in the snow.”

The first snow had fallen weeks ago, yet Seoul remained half-hidden beneath its heavy white coat. Jiyong stepped out of the studio, exhausted and drained. He paused though, to peer out the large glass windows of the YG building at the newly plowed streets, not realizing that someone else had joined him. Long arms enveloped him in an embrace from behind, a warm cheek pressed to his. Jiyong grinned. He would recognize that scent anywhere.

“What are you doing here?” He reached up to toy with the bracelets on Seunghyun's wrist. “I thought you were filming.”

“I'm on a secret mission. If I told you, I'd have to kill you.”

“Does this secret mission involve food? Because I'm about to start gnawing on your arm.”

Seunghyun pulled away, ducking his head to brush a quick kiss over is temple. The older boy blushed. Jiyong rolled his eyes. Fingers latched onto the sleeve of his jacket and he was tugged towards the elevators.

“Am I gonna have to yell at you again for not eating all day?”

“I was working,” he sighed.

“And that still doesn't qualify as an excuse.”

They had this conversation pretty regularly. Jiyong would get careless and Seunghyun would always mother him. However, he'd be lying if he said he didn't love every minute of it. Being aware that you were cared for by another human was a heady feeling.

“So where are we going?”

“It's a secret, remember?” Seunghyun smirked, adjusting the scarf around Jiyong's neck.

A cab was waiting for them in the parking lot and he raised an eyebrow. Chuckling, the older boy shoved him into the backseat, putting his hands over Jiyong's ears as he told the driver their destination.

“You are so strange.”

“This shouldn't be a new realization, Ji.”

“Well, sometimes it bears repeating.”

He knocked Seunghyun's leg with his knee repetitively, watching the world fly by in streaks of dusky blue and white. The sun faded and the street lights buzzed to life and they were drifting further and further away from the city center. Eventually he had lost track of where they were, winding in and out of small residential streets. His curiosity burned bright. Seunghyun was up to something, his surprises weren't usually this elaborate. Jiyong's heart beat quickened and he failed to contain the smile that claimed his lips.

The cab slowed and stopped in front of a small, deserted park. Seunghyun paid the driver, impatiently pulling him from the car. He laughed and watched as the, supposedly grown, man leapt through the snow ahead of him towards the pint-sized playground. The one thing he hoped Seunghyun never lost was his childish exuberance. Though the rest of them may not always appreciate it at the time, the older boy's antics ensured that they all maintained their sanity. Sheer, calculated silliness was the perfect antidote for the burdens and stresses of life. Jiyong wondered if the others knew just how hard Seunghyun tried to keep them happy. It didn't always work, but the fact that he tried? That was love.

He sat on the very tiny swing next to Seunghyun, rocking back and forth with his feet buried in white fluff. The boy looked absolutely ridiculous, almost on the ground with his knees drawn up because his legs were too long. Jiyong smiled and leaned against the metal chains, arms hanging limp at his sides.

“Why are we here?”

“Why not?” Seunghyun gave him a sideways glance. “You've been working too hard. We both have.”

“But why here?” He pushed off from the ground, holding his legs out so they wouldn't drag.

“I wanted to build a snowman.”

Jiyong jumped off the swing, turning to face him. His lips curled in a smirk.

“Then what are we waiting for?”

He snatched Seunghyun's hand, stealing him from the swings and zig-zagging through trees to the center of the park. They started packing the loose snow, condensing it into a more solid state so they could roll it into a larger ball. Their laughter peppered the otherwise silent dusk and the sound suffused his body with a tingling sort of warmth. It was so rare that they were allowed to have moments like these. A glimpse of a life they had left behind years ago. Jiyong scooped up a handful of powdery snow and pressed it into a ball, winding his arm in a broad circle before unleashing the frozen projectile upon his hapless victim. The snowball smacked into the back of Seunghyun's head as he was rolling the second tier of their snowman over the ground. He snickered. Jiyong was giddy. He wanted to giggle at everything, even the look of death in the other boy's dark eyes.

“You're evil.” Seunghyun grinned, crouching to fill his palms with powder.

Backing away, Jiyong yelped and ran off when Seunghyun began chasing after him. He took cover behind a tree trunk, panting as he peeked around the other side but the boy had vanished. That sneaky bastard. Where was he? Just as Jiyong was about to come out from hiding, a snow-filled hand slapped against the side of his face and he nearly squealed.

“Now who's evil?” He spluttered, blinking flakes of white from his eyelashes.

Seunghyun pecked him on the cheek and sprinted in the opposite direction, chuckling to himself and returning to work on the snowman. He shook his head, smiling. Jerk. Jiyong lifted his gaze to the branches above, their black silhouettes almost indecipherable from the black of the sky. It was getting late. He joined Seunghyun as he was depositing the lopsided head atop their snowman's rather pathetic body, the yellow street lights making it look sickly.

“We don't have anything to give him a face.” The boy frowned.

“Who says it's a “he”?” Jiyong knocked him with his elbow. “Or even human, for that matter.”

“Okay, Mr. Politically Correct, the snow being will be left as it is.” Seunghyun emitted a breathy laugh. “Lumpy and genderless.”

“Should we give it a name?”

“We don't even know what it is, how can we give it a name?”

“You're right,” he sighed. “Plus we wouldn't want to offend it.”

“And you think I'm strange?” Seunghyun poked him in the stomach.

“Snow beings have feelings too.” He stuck his tongue out.

Next thing he knew he was being trapped in a headlock, flailing to break free as they both succumbed to their absurdity. Jiyong kicked Seunghyun's legs out from under him and they tumbled to the cold ground, arms and legs splayed at odd angles. He buried his face in the boy's shoulder, body shaking and stomach sore. They were terrible and not funny at all yet he couldn't stop the tears from forming at the corners of his eyes. Seunghyun pulled him close, nuzzling into his snow-covered hair.

Jiyong took hold of Seunghyun's scarf, molding their mouths together, chasing away the chill. He gasped as the boy rolled on top of him, pushing him further into the snow-covered earth. The sweetness of those lips would never fail to release a swarm of butterflies in his stomach. Always lighting him up like the brightest of stars. He was surprised he hadn't melted every inch of snow in a ten foot radius with the waves of heat pouring from his body. Jiyong hummed, tired and content.

Seunghyun withdrew, rubbing his nose against Jiyong's in that stupidly heart-warming way of his. The boy smiled and caressed his cheek with gloved fingers.

“Merry Christmas, Ji.”

He reached out to trace the dimples that had formed on either side of Seunghyun's mouth, only making his smile widen and Jiyong's blood quicken.

“Merry Christmas, Seunghyun.”

“I'm glad you're here.”

“Me too,” he whispered, leaning in to steal another kiss.

Prompt: “a highshoolau similar to the simplicity of "When I'm With You"” and “High school AU, awkward Seunghyun, rogue-ish Jiyong, MISTLETOE.” (if you're interested in hearing the piece of music mentioned in this prompt, this is a lovely performance)

The auditorium fell silent. An anticipatory hush claiming the cavernous hall, save for the faint rustle of restless legs shifting in their seats. I propped my feet up on the back of the chair in front of me, arms wrapped around my legs and chin resting on my knee. It wasn't even close to being a full house, but I didn't like sitting on the main floor. I told myself it was because the acoustics were far superior up in the nest of the balcony, but really it was because I didn't want any of my classmates to recognize me. One, in particular, but he probably wouldn't even care that I was there. Or that I had been coming to every single orchestra performance for the last year and a half. Just for him.

Fiddling with the laces on my boots, I closed my eyes and waited for the opening strains of the next piece to float into my ears. I remembered this one from the program, Rachmaninov's “Vocalise”. It began gently, the melody haunting in its loveliness. The strings swelled in waves, growing louder and then receding into a lilting sort of rhythm. Every time the music built to a crescendo my heart would throb. Like it was being squeezed by every note and the pauses in between. An overwhelming sense of melancholy filled my chest and I hugged my legs tighter. How could something this beautiful be so sad?

The ease in which the piece gripped me was sort of unsettling, sending chills rippling down my spine and making goosebumps spread over my skin. Classical music wasn't really my thing. Or it hadn't been, until Seunghyun happened. I lifted my head and gazed down at the small ocean of students bathed in black, the warm, honeyed color of their wooden instruments standing out under the harsh lights of the stage. Even if I hadn't already been intimately familiar with the mess of that dark hair, the thickness of those knitted brows, the sharp angle of that jaw. Even if I'd never set eyes on Seunghyun before now, he would still stand out. The passion he had for music lived in his fingers and the elegant sway of his body. There was a reason he had earned the right to hold the position of first chair violin for so long. I watched intently, imagining he was playing for an audience of one instead of one hundred.

By the end of the piece, I felt the tell-tale sting of tears. Every ing time. I laughed at myself, wiping roughly at the moisture trickling down my cheeks. If my friends knew I was here, let alone crying because of some stupid song, I would never hear the end of it. Jiyong Kwon wasn't supposed to be a sap. A hopeless romantic. Jiyong Kwon was reckless and brash and said “” every other word. Jiyong Kwon partied every weekend instead of writing essays. Jiyong Kwon spent more time in detention than he did inside of a classroom. I rolled my eyes and sniffed, the tears finally having stopped. As the rest of the audience rose from their seats to applaud the talented musicians, I stood and slipped out the back door, skipping down the steps and into the deserted hallways of the school.

For a while I wandered. Chaerin and Bae were probably waiting for me to call them but I wasn't ready to leave yet. The music still clung to the walls of my heart. The ghost of its beauty still swimming in my head. I wondered if Seunghyun had ever cried during a performance. Or had he been playing long enough now to control himself? Taking a left into the science wing, I noticed lights spilling from the lab at the end of the corridor. The custodian crew had already come through here, I knew because I'd logged enough hours lurking around this godforsaken building getting myself into all sorts of trouble. Curious and bored, I shuffled along the linoleum floor to take a peek.

Someone was rummaging through the drawer of a lab station in the far corner of the room. That someone being none other than Seunghyun Choi. He had his back to me, so I leaned against the door frame and took the opportunity to observe the way his black turtleneck hugged his torso. The way his dress pants hugged the swell of his . It was rare that I had the chance to ogle so freely. During school, assuming I was even in class to begin with, our interactions were limited to my shameless teasing. This was the only socially acceptable way for me to flirt with Seunghyun. According to my moronic friends, anyway. Not that I necessarily gave a about what they thought, but high school was a game. As a nail that had been hammered down one too many times, there were some things I chose not to stick my neck out for. Though the longer I held back the more I realized I didn't want to anymore.

“You played really well tonight,” I said, surprising him enough that he dropped whatever he'd been looking for.

When he saw me, he narrowed his eyes and turned away, bending down to retrieve a navy blue binder stuffed with a semester's worth of Biology notes. I probably hadn't attended enough days to warrant filling even half of a single-subject notebook. This is where Seunghyun and I differed the most. He was hard-working. Whereas I just didn't care. He coughed and tucked the binder under his arm, spinning to face me. I let my appreciation for his wardrobe choice show in the curl of my lips as I looked him over from head to toe.

“Thank you, Jiyong.” he muttered, blushing and avoiding my gaze.

“No, thank you.”

I was laying it on extra thick now that I didn't have to worry about rumor-mongering spectators. And because maybe I wanted to take advantage of the fact that our Biology teacher thought it was funny to leave a sprig of mistletoe hanging from the lintel well after the holidays had ended. I would bet a thousand bucks Seunghyun hadn't noticed it was there.

“I never would've expected to see you here.” He walked towards the front of the classroom, holding his binder to his chest.

“What, in school? I know, total shocker right?”

Seunghyun sighed and paused next to Mr. Gleason's desk.

“I mean at one of our concerts.” He fidgeted, rather adorably, and stared at my feet. “You don't seem like the Classical type.”

“That'd be your fault, actually. Let's just say you've inspired me.”

He was really squirming now, the tint of his cheeks becoming more pronounced. I smiled, enjoying this more than I probably should. Those pink cheeks puffed out and Seunghyun sighed again, moving for the doorway I was currently occupying.

“I need to get back.”

Slamming my hand against the opposite side of the door frame, he jumped and looked down at me, fingers working the plastic casing of his binder until it squeaked.

“You have to pay the toll first.”

“What toll?” Seunghyun frowned. “I don't have time for your right now, Jiyong.”

I glanced up at the bundle of white and green hanging over our heads and he followed the movement, his blush crawling further beneath the cover of his turtleneck. Seunghyun gaped at me, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. I was sure the self-satisfied smirk on my face wasn't helping. Normally his complete and total embarrassment would have been enough. It was so cute, the way he stumbled whenever I placed a figurative foot out to trip him. Tonight though, tonight I wanted him to lose his balance entirely. Prying Seunghyun's binder from his hands, I tossed it onto the table just inside the door.

“One kiss, that's all.” I murmured and shoved him against the wood frame.

He gasped, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides.

“Why?”

I leaned into his body, fingers grazing the high neckline of his sweater as he released a shaky breath.

“Because I'm not-so-secretly hoping that you won't be able to stop thinking about me afterward.”

“You are so incredibly full of yourself.” Seunghyun scoffed, though I could see the mounting panic in his eyes.

With a hand cupping the back of his head, I swallowed thickly. I actually didn't feel as cocky as he imagined I did. This was real. It wasn't a fantasy. It wasn't a wet dream. As I stared at Seunghyun, close enough that we were sharing the same stale air, a small part of me toyed with the idea of letting him go. But I was already here. And he'd had every opportunity to push me away, to stop me. Surely that must have meant something.

I lifted up onto my toes and molded my lips to his, the sensation sending little jolts of nervous energy straight to my heart. He was soft. Warm. Angling my head to the side, our noses brushing, I searched for more substantial contact. Seunghyun was tense at first, his muscles stiff and his mouth only barely moving against mine. Like he wasn't entirely positive what he should be doing. I arched into the curve of his body and he hummed quietly. I buried my hand in his hair and there was a tentative pressure at my waist, his fingers gliding over the thin fabric of my t-shirt. Taking a chance, I slide my tongue along the seam of his lips to see if he'd let me in. Seunghyun's mouth fell open almost instantly, his arms wrapping themselves around me so tight it was hard to breathe. I moaned when his thigh insinuated itself between my legs but the sound of my pleasure must have been too much because he broke away, arms that were wound tight now pushing me back. Chest heaving, Seunghyun gazed at me with wide, glazed eyes.

He appeared to be a bit on the bewildered side. I only wanted to know why he'd stopped. Well, I knew why but I didn't like it. I could have so easily lost myself in those lips. Perhaps he had realized the same.

Seunghyun's brow furrowed and he placed a palm over his sternum, still drawing labored breaths. My skin tingled where his hands had rested, sort of like the blurry after-image on the backs of your eyelids when you've been staring at something for too long. He was there, as well.

When Seunghyun finally came back to himself, he cleared his throat and reached around me for the binder I'd tossed on the table, fumbling with it again as I pressed another kiss to his ever-rosy cheek.

“Have a good weekend, Seunghyun.”

He straightened, binder clutched fiercely to his , as if it would protect him from any further advances. I held back a laugh at the drugged look on his face.

“That was two,” he muttered.

“Two what?”

“Kisses.” Seunghyun's face went even more red.

“Well, I lied.” I stepped back to give him space, smiling sweetly. “You're free to go now. Unless you wanna stay, which works too.”

“Yeah,” Seunghyun nodded slowly and then winced. “I mean, no. No I have to leave.”

I couldn't hold back the amused snort that escaped, covering my mouth with my hand. He huffed, tiny little smirk tugging at the edges of his lips as he scratched the back of his head. Seunghyun tore his eyes away, nodding once more and walking down the hallway.

Leaning against the door with arms crossed, I watched him go, staying there until he vanished around the corner. That went better than I thought it would, honestly. I in a huge breath, letting it out in one steady burst of air. Okay it went a hell of a lot better. Scrubbing a hand over my face, I laughed, giddy and even a little light-headed.

“er,” I laughed again, dragging myself from the Bio lab and digging my phone out of my pocket.

This called for a celebration.

“Hey Bae, where you at man?” I spoke into the receiver, disappearing through the exit doors at the end of the corridor and wearing the biggest -eating grin imaginable.

Prompt: “anything with the spirit tree Ji and his Seunghyun . something from when Seunghyun was still a child and playing around that tree during winter?”

Jiyong was draped over a low-hanging branch of the Sakura tree, arms dangling freely on either side as he stared at the pale sky, watching it bloom with the warmth of the early morning sun. Indigo had given way to powder blue and powder blue to creamy orange until the earth was bathed in gold. Winter had come and taken away his bundles of pink blossoms, the tree lifeless and bare. Though perhaps lifeless was too harsh a word. The branches still pulsed with energy but it was subdued. Jiyong was subdued too. He didn't like winter. It was boring. And too quiet. Sighing, he rolled over, jumping to the snow-covered ground. In the distance, coming toward the empty park, was a little figure swaddled in layers of thick fabric. The figure tottered from side to side along the sidewalk, tiny arms sticking out. Jiyong grinned knowingly and ducked behind the trunk of the tree to hide himself.

The little figure approached slowly, its tiny feet barely making it over the densely accumulated white powder with each step. He waited until the waddling bundle came up to the tree and placed its mittened hands on the dry bark.

“Jiyong?” The tiny human mumbled.

“Does your mother know you're here, Seunghyun?” He poked his head around the other side, startling his guest. “Or did you leave without telling her? Again.”

The young boy gasped, big eyes growing even bigger, chubby cheeks partially obscured by the fuzzy flaps of his hat. Jiyong loved this face. He wished that he could see it every day, instead of whenever Seunghyun managed to slip out from under his mother's nose.

“I-”

“You are in so much trouble,” Jiyong whispered, smiling so that the boy knew he was only joking.

Picking up a handful of snow, he threw it at Seunghyun, coating him in the puffy flakes. The boy shrieked and dissolved into a fit of giggles, chasing after him with hands outstretched and eyes aglow. He lead them in circles for a while, letting Seunghyun tackle him to the ground with the most precious little roar. A pile of snow met his face and he groaned comically.

“Mercy!” Jiyong cried, spitting snow from his mouth.

Seunghyun's triumphant squeal echoed out into the frozen wasteland of suburbia and he let it ring in his ears. He missed the joyful sound of children playing in the grass underneath his flowered boughs. Not many people ventured into the park once the weather turned arctic. But Seunghyun never failed to visit him, in all seasons, sneaking out of his house just before dawn to come keep him company. This is why he lived and breathed. Why he walked the planes of the earth as flesh and bone instead of as roots and bark. Seunghyun had wished so fervently for a companion that he'd had no choice but to grant it. Jiyong would never forget the moment he first opened his eyes, the abundance of love this small child had for another living thing giving birth to his current form. He was pretty lucky for a tree.

“I got you,” the boy giggled.

“You got me real good. I'm no match for you, Seunghyun.'

The little boy beamed, crawling on top of him and curling his short arms around his neck. Jiyong hugged him back, dropping a kiss on top of his head.

“Jiyong?” Seunghyun mumbled.

“Yes, my treasure?”

“Can we go up in the tree?”

“Only if you promise to be a good boy.”

“I'm always a good boy,” Seunghyun huffed and Jiyong laughed.

Cradling him close, Jiyong lifted them from the cold earth, jumping up into the air. Seunghyun hung onto him for dear life, eyes clenched shut until they'd settled on one of the thicker branches. It didn't matter how many times he did this, the boy would always react like flying was the scariest thing in the whole world. He leaned against the trunk and secured his arms around Seunghyun's middle, ensuring that he wouldn't fall.

“So what exciting adventures have you had since I last saw you?”

The little boy scrunched up his face as he thought real hard about how to answer. Jiyong smiled. Everything Seunghyun did was so painfully cute he almost couldn't bear it.

“We made snowmen out of cotton-balls in school. And then we made real snowmen during recess but we didn't have any carrots so I had to use a pencil for his nose.”

“I'm sure the snowman appreciated that.”

“Do you know any snowmen?”

“There was one here in the park not that long ago, but he melted before I had the chance to talk to him.”

“Oh. That's sad.”

“It is, yes.” Jiyong nodded, fighting not to laugh at the serious expression on the boy's pudgy face.

“But you'll be the first to know if I have the opportunity again.”

Seunghyun's eyes lit up, squirming in his lap.

“Really?”

“Of course,” he vowed, tweaking the boy's red nose between his fingers and making him giggle.

Morning unfolded around them, the blue sky turning gray with the arrival of heavy clouds. Soon the world would be awake and Seunghyun would have to leave. Jiyong sighed. He had never liked goodbyes. The little boy burrowed further into his arms, pressing his face into the warmth of his chest. It was especially difficult to say goodbye to his little treasure because he didn't know if it would be the last time they saw each other. Children grew up. Children forgot. His heart throbbed at the thought of being forgotten. Surely Seunghyun wouldn't cast away this memory, wouldn't write him off as a figment of his imagination. Because he was quite real. But only for him.

“I don't wanna go home,” the boy whined. “I wanna stay with you forever.”

“You know I wish you could.”

“But why not?”

Jiyong's lips curved in a bittersweet smile, palm cupping a soft cheek.

“Because your parents would miss you so very much. I can't take you away from them.”

“They would?”

“Yes, Seunghyun, they would.” He lowered his head, rubbing their noses together. “You're so special. And special things must be cherished.”

“But they don't hug me like you do.” Seunghyun sighed, arms squeezing him like a vice.

The sound of that sigh was so sad that it brought tears to his eyes. Jiyong swallowed around the lump in his throat as he tightened the embrace.

“I will always be here to hug you, Seunghyun.”

“Promise?” The boy sniffed and he felt his heart break just a little bit more.

“I promise.”

“Okay.”

“Come on, it's time for you to go home. Your mother'll be worried if she finds out you've gone missing.”

Reluctantly, he floated down from the tree, depositing Seunghyun on the ground. Jiyong took the boy's mittened hand in his own and silently walked him to the edge of the park until he could go no further. He lowered into a crouch, smiling encouragingly.

“I'll see you soon, all right?”

Frowning, Seunghyun nodded, lunging forward for one last hug. Jiyong gasped, nearly losing his balance. The little boy pulled away slightly, puckering his lips and pressing a wet kiss to Jiyong's cheek. He blushed, heat tingling under his skin.

“I love you, Jiyong.”

“I love you too.” The tears resurfaced and he struggled to maintain his composure. “Get home safe.”

Seunghyun's hand slipped from his and then he was gone; a tiny black smudge against a backdrop of white. He didn't let the tears spill until the boy had faded from view, falling onto his back, arms splayed out in the snow. Jiyong was pretty sure he'd never cried before and the experience was infinitely strange. Something inside of him knew that Seunghyun wouldn't return for a very long time. He could pretend otherwise, but it would be foolish and he would only cause himself more suffering. Besides, he could wait. Jiyong was good at waiting.

“You cunning little thief,” he whispered into the air, grinning at the sky as new snowflakes tumbled from above.

A five year-old had stolen his heart and he never wanted it back.

Prompt: “Jiyong and Seunghyun decorating their apartment.”

Thick, wet flakes of fresh snow drifted down from gray sky, hitching a ride on the leather jacket that did very little to keep the frigid air from cutting through every layer of my skin. I stumbled on the sidewalk, feet sliding over the iced slush. January had arrived without warning, as it normally did. Though sometimes I wished it would announce itself with a deafening fanfare of air-raid sirens instead. At least then I could more actively not give a about the fact that it was a new year. Adjusting the bag of groceries digging into my shoulder, I shook the stowaway snowflakes from my hair and leapt up onto the stoop of our new apartment. Moving in the heart of winter had been one of the less intelligent things Jiyong and I had ever done. But idiocy wasn't a foreign concept to either of us. We'd learned this relatively early on in our relationship which is probably why we were still together now, five years later. Fumbling with the new ring of keys I had yet to familiarize myself with, I fought my way into the building and up three flights of narrow stairs.

Loud music filtered through the heavy wooden door of our apartment and I almost rolled my eyes. Either Jiyong really wanted our new neighbors to hate us or he had no idea that he was being quite so obnoxious. At least he was listening to something good, the blaring guitar riffs of The Ramones pounding against my eardrums as I slipped inside. I ducked into the kitchen, unloading the groceries onto the counter and bobbing my head in time with the catchy rhythm.

“It's not hard, not far to reach. We can hitch a ride to Rockaway Beach,” Jiyong crooned from the living room.

Grinning, I shuffled around the corner, not the least bit surprised when I caught him shaking his hips and swinging his arms amidst ladders and large cans of paint. He was so ing adorable. I watched silently, Jiyong rocking out with an imaginary guitar in his hands, shimmying back and forth. His fluffy blonde hair swished with every toss of his head and I bit down on the laughter that wanted to spill from my lips. Skinny legs clad in tattered, cut-off jeans kicked into the air as he started ing and I died a little inside. Jiyong would forever be the sixteen year old brat I first met in high school. I loved him then and I loved him now and I would most likely love him until the day I died. It took us a little while to find each other, too young and dumb to really know what was staring us in the face all those years ago. But here we were, no longer young and still hopeless. When the song ended and the opening notes of “I Wanna Be Sedated” emitted from the stereo, I tossed aside what little shame I had left and joined my idiot boyfriend in his flailing.

“Jesus christ you scared the outta me,” Jiyong breathed, fingers clenching the neon-blue material of his sweatshirt.

“Not sorry.” I smiled, hopping around in front of him while Joey Ramone whined through the speakers.

“,” he laughed, pulling me close.

Our mouths met, twin smiles colliding in a sloppy kiss while we swayed from side to side. I concentrated on the feeling of Jiyong in my arms, on the weird, giddy elation spreading through my chest. For me, life was a collection of tiny moments strung together with an invisible thread. Everything mattered and no detail was insignificant. It helped maintain my sanity in a world that didn't make any sense. Because we made sense. And that was all I cared about. The song changed again and I was struck with a flash of nostalgia.

“Do you remember when I asked you to dance to this at Chaerin's party?” I spoke into the shell of his ear, fingertips drifting along his arms in search of warm hands.

Jiyong snorted and allowed me to twirl him around in a circle.

“I'm sure you also remember the look of abject terror on my face when you did.”

“You knew it was coming,” I chuckled, spinning him out and in again.

He rested his head on my shoulder and I pressed my palm to the small of his back.

“I shouldn't have been so surprised that you were such a ing sap.”

“But you know better now.”

Laughing softly, Jiyong brushed his lips against my neck.

“Yes, I do.”

I sang along with the music, leading us around the empty living room in a half-assed waltz.

Because I wanna be your boyfriend. Hey little girl, I wanna be your boyfriend.

That had been the night I confessed, drunkenly changing the pronouns because I thought it would be cute. Jiyong hadn't been able to stop laughing, his face flushed red and amused tears streaming down his cheeks. We'd ended up making out in the back stairwell for almost an hour afterward. The rest, as they say, is history. I spun Jiyong out once more then dipped him low towards the floor. He squeaked, giggling the same way he had the last time I'd done this.

“We're never gonna get this place painted if you keep screwing around.” He grinned up at me.

“Excuse me, but I wasn't the one jumping around like a spaz.”

“Details,” Jiyong coughed and glanced away.

“Don't make me drop you.”

“You wouldn't dare.”

I raised an eyebrow and smirked, loosening my grip slightly so he slipped closer to the ground. Jiyong yelped, clawing at my shoulders. Teasing him was too easy and too entertaining. Maybe I was a sadist, maybe not. But he tortured me merely by existing so I figured it was a fair trade-off. In a rare act of mercy, I returned him to an upright position and stepped away. Jiyong punched me in the arm.

“Ow?” I rubbed at my throbbing, abused flesh. “That wasn't nice, jerk.”

Evil that he was, he pretended to swing again and I flinched, yelling incoherently.

“I swear to god I will christen this apartment with your blood,” I growled, kissing him on the forehead.

Jiyong stuck his tongue out and I rolled my eyes. This was about as close to an argument as we ever got. And it was always over nothing. Honestly, I hoped we never stopped being juvenile morons because it just made life so much more enjoyable.

“Go change, I'll finish up in the kitchen. And don't leave your jeans in a pile at the bottom of the closet.”

“Yes, mom.”

“Seunghyun.”

“Are you sure you don't wanna watch me put my clothes in the hamper? Might be the only opportunity you'll have to witness such a miraculous event.”

Jiyong approached me with eyes narrowed and grabbed hold of my chin. I batted my eyelashes at him, not failing to catch the twitch of a smile.

“Shut up.” He muttered and bent forward, molding his lips to mine.

Making Jiyong angry or annoyed usually resulted in his tongue inside of my mouth, so I did it as often as possible. He knew this too, which meant he probably liked it as much as I did. We were remarkably odd. But I wouldn't have it any other way. Jiyong hummed and nibbled on my lower lip, his other hand sweeping over my chest. Now who was screwing around? I broke away and pressed my lips to cheek.

“Kitchen. Go.”

With a mock salute, he pivoted on his heel and marched into the hallway. I couldn't prevent the slap-happy grin from spreading across my face as I finally retreated to the bedroom. The fact that we managed to accomplish anything anymore never ceased to amaze me.

*

Whoever it was that got paid to name paint colors deserved to be put out of their misery. Jiyong and I had stood in front of the wall of paint chips inside Sherwin Williams for hours, shoulders shaking with unrestrained hilarity as we read each one out loud. With titles like “Front Porch” and “Lauren's Surprise” it was hard not to break down. We'd gone home with “Jargon Jade”, “Down Pour”, and “Concerto”, much to Jiyong's pleasure. I didn't particularly care, so long as he was happy. As far as I was concerned the kitchen was teal, the living room was blue, and the bedroom was...well it was “Concerto”, I guess. Currently, the entire right side of Jiyong's face was covered in “Down Pour” because I'd whacked him with the roller. On accident. Really.

“I suppose I don't have to yell at you because I'm already blue in the face.” He wiped at the wet pigment, getting it all over his fingers.

“You might wanna give it a shot anyway, until the other half looks the same.” I smiled, only sort of remorseful. “Y'know, for symmetry.”

“What if I like being asymmetrical?”

“Then by all means, carry on.”

“I'm gonna kill you.” Jiyong shook his head, smirking despite his obvious exasperation.

“This might actually be an improvement,” I murmured, leaning closer to inspect his features. “Mel Gibson would be so proud.”

Without warning, he tipped forward, rubbing his cheek against my face and smearing the blue paint all over my nose and my forehead. I let out a garbled groan, which swiftly dissolved into laughter when Jiyong began sliding his roller over my shirt.

“I know I'm wasting paint but I just can't help myself.”

“Let's be honest, your self-restraint has never been noteworthy.”

He released an over-exaggerated gasp of horror and came after me, roller raised and ready to strike. I slid across the plastic cover we'd laid down, scrambling over boxes to get to the bathroom before he could attack but I wasn't fast enough. Jiyong smacked me in the with a wet slap and we both crashed onto the tiled floor. So much for being productive. Wincing, I flipped over onto my back and he crawled on top of me, straddling my hips. I stared at him and he stared at me, the limitless affection swimming in his clear, brown eyes sending pangs of sweetness directly to my heart. I felt like I fell in love with Jiyong over and over again with each passing day. Because underneath the snark he was kind and gentle and sometimes he would smile in this particular way, like he was right now, and I would realize that I was losing myself for the thousandth time.

“I have a sneaking suspicion that we're not gonna get any more painting done tonight.”

“This is my surprised face.” I gave him a wry look, fingernails trailing absent-minded patterns over his thighs.

Jiyong yawned, scrubbing more blue from his face with the sleeve of his sweatshirt. Tapping him on the leg, I motioned for him to get off and I lifted us both up to stand. Hands on his waist, I hoisted him onto the countertop of the sink, grabbing a towel from the rack.

“Close your eyes,” I said, wetting the terrycloth fabric.

One finger tucked under his chin, I carefully dragged the towel over his skin, cleaning away the paint until he no longer resembled William Wallace. Though I wouldn't mind if he had the sudden urge to start wearing kilts and nothing beneath. Jiyong breathed calmly, face serene. He would probably pass out the minute we hit the bed. Such an old man. I planted a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth and he gazed up at me from under droopy eyelids.

“Thank you.” His smile was tender, even a little demure.

My chest constricted and I turned to the mirror, distracting myself by cleaning the blue smudges from my own face. Jiyong hopped down from the sink and went about brushing his teeth, his shoulder bumping into mine every so often. You would think that being with the same person, for any length of time, would become boring. Or you would get sick of each other, only seeing the other's flaws as if under a microscope. It wasn't like that with Jiyong. Yes, there were aspects of his personality that bugged the out of me, but I knew that I was equally frustrating in different ways. Our irritating qualities meshed just as harmoniously as our favorable ones did. We balanced one another. And there were times when that realization would hit me, forceful and all-encompassing, and my emotions would get the best of me.

“We need to buy more toilet paper,” Jiyong sighed, leaning against the sink with his arms crossed while I rinsed out my mouth.

“I'll pick some up tomorrow on my way home from work.”

“Could you get me some cigarettes too?” He grinned, toothy and exaggerated, eyebrows disappearing into his blonde bangs.

“Do you want me to steal the moon and the stars for you while I'm at it?”

Jiyong glared at me, but the effect was ruined by the humor laced in the lines of his face.

“So cruel.”

“Yes, I know. You should be thankful I even let you out of your cage.”

He shoved me and scoffed, muttering something under his breath that sounded a lot like “er” as he stomped out of the bathroom. Chuckling, I flicked the light off and followed him through the darkened apartment. Jiyong was standing next to our bed, peeling his clothes off and haphazardly throwing each article into the laundry basket in the corner. I shut the door behind me, shedding my paint-stained t-shirt and my ruined jeans. We didn't say anything as we climbed onto the mattress and wormed our way under the covers. Or when I curled my body around his and buried my nose in the fringe of hair at the nape of his neck. Jiyong yanked my arms more firmly around his waist, wriggling against me until he was comfortable.

“What're you gonna do tomorrow?” I mumbled into his skin.

“Paint.”

“Save some for me.” My fingers tangled with his and he clutched our joined hands to his chest. “I don't wanna come home and find you rolling around on the floor, high as a kite from all the paint fumes.”

“Who needs paint fumes when I have you?” Jiyong yawned again, muscles going lax as he hovered on the edge of sleep.

“Ji...”

“Don't say anything or I'll hit you again.”

“Idiot,” I whispered, eyes drifting shut.