First, just let me say that this community is the sweetest. I love you guys. 

Thank you so much. So many subscribed, and I feel terrible that it's so short (it was only meant to be a one-shot/drabble) and that it will certainly disappoint. 

T-T Also, I'm really sorry for the wonky styling of this. I blame my English teacher and Nathaniel Hawthorne. 

Please don't throw fruit at me. 

Kiseop doesn't say anything sans for an agonizingly simple, “welcome back,” when he greets AJ upon his return.

His entire arrival is little more than a blur full of incandescent words and hugs, and pats on the back from the hands of the men he loves as though they were kin. AJ doesn't realize the magnitude of just how much he missed the older male until he's back in his arms again. The five months that had elapsed when he was away, while no longer as brutal as they were in their duration, seem much more monumental; they may as well be a cement block hitting him over the head. Nothing's changed – not really – but everything feels like it has. Like his relationships with the members are exactly same, but the atmosphere that encompasses him is stale and abnormal, and foreign.

AJ wonders if Kiseop can feel it, too, like he's emitting it off his body in radioactive waves.

He goes through the motions of a celebratory dinner, of recounts of Columbia, the terrors of psychology and finals week , and an assemblage of silly tales from his months in America effortlessly, but he feels like his sides have been chiseled off and he's no longer a cube fitting into a square – he's now a sphere.

The reunion lasts until their managers begin to get on their case; then they part ways and AJ resolves to tag after Kiseop, appearing every bit like Mary's little lamb. Just when AJ thinks that Kiseop is oblivious to AJ following him, there's a hand around his wrist that tugs him into the darkened recesses of bedroom with drawn drapes and a carpet of haphazardly thrown clothes. By the time his eyes adjust to the shadow, his back's flush against the wall and the hand on his wrist has migrated to his hip.

The blue numbers of the digital alarm clock on the bedside table glint off of Kiseop's teeth when he smiles.

“Hi,” utters Kiseop, and although it's no more than a whisper, it sounds absurdly loud.

“Hi,” AJ breathes back. Even though it's nearly pitch black in the bedroom, AJ feels like he can see with perfect clarity. He's memorized every curve and contour, and blemish of Kiseop's being after all – knows it better than the back of his own hand. Kiseop's smile, despite the five month interruption, still makes his stomach flutter. Lag filled video chats and pixel-y photos certainly have nothing on being face-to-face. At dinner there had been a table and people, a shadow of expectations, and manner guidelines between them. But now Kiseop was more than in reach; There was hardly six inches between them, let alone an entire Ocean.

AJ mutters Kiseop's name and it cracks painfully on the second syllable. Kiseop tilts his head to the side , perceptible even in the dark, and AJ's begrudged and newly assumed sense of disconnect feels glaringly obvious. There's a beat of silence where AJ knows he's being carefully canvassed; probed over by Kiseop as a metal detector hunts for coins.

“Can I tell you a secret?” asks Kiseop, and AJ can feel his words against his skin.

It's not a question that he had expected, but sometimes AJ reckons that Kiseop must know him better than he knows himself.

“Always,” replies AJ instantaneously .

Kiseop's other hand journey s up to join its mate on AJ's waist, fingers curling in the hem of his t-shirt. By the miniscule amount of light that shines through a gap where the curtains greet each other, AJ can see the twist of Kiseop's mouth and the flicker of his eyelashes, an earnest little expression that he familiarized himself with long ago.

“I missed you,” he concedes, words as saccharine as sugar; a salve for the five month fissure that AJ's all too aware of. There's an unspoken inquisition in the tone of Kiseop's voice – a did you miss me, too? – and AJ can't help but smile.

“More than anything.,” AJ answers.

When Kiseop kisses him it's closed mouth, curry flavored, and skewed slightly too far to the left,. But it's perfectly flawed. The utter flecks and particles that comprise AJ's entirety feel like they're exulting – five months were ridiculously protracted , the moment much overdue. At that instant – with Kiseop's fingers dancing on his sides and their smiles pressed together - his worries seem trivial, and AJ wonders vaguely why he had figured that anything had ever changed in the first place. For even if some uncongenial development had been made whilst he was away, he would still have Kiseop; who melts away his silly notions and worries like a ray of sunshine upon the snow of winter. He wouldn't have it any other way.