It's early in the morning. Luhan isn't sure when they fell asleep but he knows, vaguely, that it wasn't late. Some time after getting into bed, peppermint-shampoo kisses and skin on velveteen skin. 
Now he lies in Minseok's bed, feeling the gentle curve of the latter's spine against his side, eyes open in the dim morning light. There's an ache in his heart, the missing piece belonging to Jongdae, but there is something else there too, a glimmer of acceptance and appreciation for life that is growing bigger all the time. It's a kind of bitter-sweet feeling, and he wonders if Minseok is experiencing it as well. 
His eyelids don't feel ready to slide closed any time soon and he rubs them to rid them of sleep, sitting up slightly in between the sheets. Minseok doesn't stir from his slumber, cherubic lips slightly open and face relaxed. Luhan brushes a lock of hair off his companion's forehead, and slides from the bed as quiet as a cat. 
Feeling fragile and exposed in his shirtlessness, he locates a hoodie and slips it over his head, then exits the room quietly. The first stop is the bathroom, and then the kitchen where he pulls a chair out from the little wooden table, sitting on the edge of the golden brown surface. 
The notes are still on the table and Luhan pours over them, memorizing every loop and angle of Jongdae's handwriting. Some are quickly scrawled and some, usually longer, seem thoughtfully written and are often poetic. They are all little gif