All moments are fleeting. These are Kyungsoo’s first thoughts on a hazy Monday morning as he clambers out of bed, unravelling himself from Jongin who has once again found his way into Kyungsoo’s bed. 

He’s not quite sure why he’s being so quiet as he tiptoes out of the room. After all, it’s common knowledge that Jongin sleeps like a log. As he rifles through packets of food a vague idea entertains itself in the back of his head. He tries to ignore it but if anything it ignores him.

He’s scared.

Beating the eggs he lets out a long supressed sigh. The dorms were so quiet in the early morning, the others fast asleep; catching whatever short transient time they could in a state of rest. With schedules and comeback just round the corner it was to be expected, yet Kyungsoo still found himself up at the crack of dawn.

Despite all his endeavours to put up a façade of neutrality, professionalism, someone had to break through. In between all-night reruns of Pororo and sleepy murmurs of hyung, whispered with a hand gripping his night shirt, Kyungsoo can’t escape the truth.

Jongin is special.

Special and quite simply the reason he’s up at five thirty in the morning, cooking breakfast. Up at five thirty, trying to ignore the fact he’s almost unbearably tired. Up at five thirty, trying to ignore the magnitude of the situation.

Because Kyungsoo doesn’t believe in forever, or happily ever after.  He believes in hard work and the fruits and rewards of such. He has a career to think about – they all do and how on earth can he balance both? Balance something so fragile with something tangible and real? There are no promises, nothing and yet the tanned face of the young man in his bed refuses to leave his head.

It makes his blood boil, actually. The choice is simple and obvious. He hasn’t worked this hard to lose sleep over things as abstract as emotions and relationships.  Because he and Jongin don’t even have a name, a name for what they have. Why should it bother him?

 It shouldn’t but it does and he almost, almost wants to take it out on the boy still curled up in his bed. Still snoring away, ignorant to Kyungsoo’s woes. Ignorant to the fact that invading his space, his bed, his heart like this is totally unfair and yet Kyungsoo can’t bring himself to pull away.

As he boils the kettle he hears a slight shuffling from the bedrooms and prepares to apologise for waking whoever it is up. Yet his words are caught in his mouth as the water spills, missing the cup completely.

“Morning hyung,” Jongin mumbles sleepily. His lips are in that perfect pout, as always and he rubs away sleep from his eyes. Sunlight pouring in from the window catches his face and steals Kyungsoo’s breath. He can’t look away.

He doesn’t know why, but he’d heard someone trying to quote Einstein, saying that,“gravity cannot be held responsible for people falling in love.” He’s loathe to jump to such poignant words but right at this moment, Kyungsoo can’t help but think they make perfect sense. As he mops up the kitchen counter and reaches for the tea bags, (Jongin thinks coffee is far too bitter), his thoughts continue their morning wander.  No matter what he does, he can’t move away from the younger boy. He can’t escape their world, carefully formed in moments like these, alone and unguarded.

The brush of Jongin’s fingers against his sends electricity jolting up his spine. Such friction is hardly enough to keep them together, stuck like this in an intricate dance of hearts. It requires an attraction far more profound than that between protons and electrons.

He sits across and slides over a plate of eggs. It’s too early to be thinking so deeply and he’s content to watch a sleepy Jongin fill himself up and slurp on scalding hot tea. Yet all it takes is a quiet thank you and a hint of rose shyly creeping up the younger’s cheeks to make him realise.

Maybe they don’t have forever but that doesn’t mean they can’t have their own piece of infinity.