An orange bottle precariously teeters on the edge of a man’s fingertips as he shallowly sleeps, sounds from the outside world stirring his consciousness from time to time.  As he turns, curling into a ball with his back facing outside, the bottle rolls away from his hand.   At that exact same time his alarm goes off.   He realizes he is clutching nothing but air and the irritating noise of the alarm ticks him off so with a grunt, he pushes himself off the couch.  Eyes half drooped, he shuts his alarm. 

Kyungsoo picks up the bottle under the coffee table, walks over and places it in the kitchen counter then opens the refrigerator.  For a split second, he forgets what he is supposed to do—and frustration almost takes over him, making his doe eyes water.  He looks back to the counter and finally remembers to take out the pitcher.  After drinking a glass of water and a pill from the bottle he sets down the glass gently on the counter, milky white skin contrasting the black granite counter perfectly.  He then cooks breakfast for two and before he knows it he sets two plates on the table, two glasses, two pairs of utensils—everything brought forth by routine.

The door bell rings.

When Kyungsoo opens the door, he is greeted by the sight of flowers in front of someone’s face, the tanned hands gently holding it imperfect yet beautiful in its own way.  The plump lips of the smaller stretched into a smile, becoming heart shaped. 

“Flower delivery for Do Kyungsoo?”  Kyungsoo could clearly hear the smirk in the familiar voice that is the first beautiful noise he heard that day.  Chuckling, he holds the other’s hand and gently leads them down, never letting go.  The flowers reveal a face as if shaped by the gods: sharp jaw and eyes that speak of pure love, lips that are thick in sight and soft in touch.  The couple stays like that for a while, looking into each other’s eyes.  They do not care if anyone would prejudice them for being with the same .  For now, they are content with the mere fact of being with each other.

“Yes, yes.  Let’s see—from Kim Jongin, I suppose?”  The taller of the two smiles and Kyungsoo’s heart cannot help but beat faster as the other leans in for a kiss.

Their kiss is chaste but full of unspoken feelings that are better left that way.  When both pull away reluctantly, their eyes continue conversing.

Finally, the smaller breaks the silence.  “Breakfast’s ready.”  The owner of the pad intertwines his milky hand with the tanned ones of the other and leads the both of them to the kitchen.

Both of them eat the breakfast Kyungsoo prepared that day—hash browns, eggs, patties and fried rice, complete with coffee;  everything just the right mix for Jongin’s palate. 

“You took overtime?”  Kyungsoo asks his partner as he clears the table, working systematically.  The other nods and loosens his tie, moistening his thick lips making them glisten. He blinks tiredly, the eyes speaking of exhaustion relieved by merely being with his partner, right here, right now.

“Yep, haven’t been home since yesterday.  I swung by after office to see you; don’t you like that?”  Jongin hugs his partner from behind and his tall frame overshadows the other’s as he rested his chin on the Kyungsoo’s head gently. 

“You’re too sweet for my own good.”  Kyungsoo finds himself saying amidst all the running thoughts in his head that this was wrong; too wrong.  He finishes washing the plates and waits for Jongin to move.

Swaying the both of them, the younger steered them from the kitchen sink to the living room, pausing to stop in front of the couch and frown.

“You slept on the couch again?” 

Kyungsoo nods, his cheeks flushing red.  Jongin sighs and removing his hands from the other’s waist begins fixing the couch as well as he can, after which he plops down and pats the seat beside him. 

“Come here, you little couch sleeper.”

They stay within the comfort of the couch, cuddling and relieving the things that happened yesterday.  Kyungsoo rests his head on Jongin’s couch as the latter told his partner that he took overtime with his advertising project. Kyungsoo cannot help but comment how thin his partner has become, which the other dismissed with a wave of a hand.

Kyungsoo, on the other hand, had an appointment with the magazine company he was working in as one of their layout artists.  He was so sure he was going to get fired, but instead he was made to file just a leave because of something; “I don’t understand the reason but if filing a leave means rest then good.  I filed it last night, effective today.  Do you have the day off, honey?”  Kyungsoo asks his partner, skin naturally tanned but now a slight shade of red on the cheeks as the older called him honey.  Jongin nods.

“I’ll just go home and change my clothes then we’ll go have a decent date, sounds good?”  Jongin suggested.  After an eager nod answers his question, he pecks the head of his partner and pats it, signaling the older to sit up. 

Kyungsoo leads the two of them to the door and smiles as the figure of the other disappears when he takes the stairs down.

He takes a shower and puts on clothes for work—then he remembers he filed a leave of absence, which means he wouldn’t have to go to work today.  Chuckling, he discards his clothes for work and changes into comfortable casual wear, remembering that he has a date with Jongin later.

Outside, the sky was bleak and gray clouds were circling overhead but nothing can tamper the good mood of Kyungsoo—a date after some months sound great.  The rain continues pouring, pitter patting on the windowpane.  For the nth time he thinks about the date, where they would go this rainy day, if the sky would just clear up for them, just this once, just this time.

After a while, Kyungsoo falls asleep on the couch again and he dreams of something so eerily familiar it made his heart cramp, making him gasp for air.

It was another bright day and Kyungsoo was in the driver’s seat, looking at the road and occasionally stealing glances at the guy beside him, imploring eyes widening in happiness as they pass through the forest, the sides lined with huge trees that shadow them from the harsh sun above them.  As the milky white hands worked with the stick shift, changing from the second to third gear, Jongin’s tanned hand unconsciously reached out and after shifting their hands were intertwined. 

“Thank you for today, dear.”  Jongin heard himself say.  For the first time since the day they came together, this was the first trip they had away from Seoul, away from the scrutiny of the people around them, away from everyone: just him and Kyungsoo.

“No need to thank me, love.  This is all because of you so thank you.”  Kyungsoo hurriedly filed a leave when Jongin asked him about going on a trip. 

Suddenly, the sky darkened—signaling rain and a storm ahead.  They drove faster, the windshield wipers working non-stop.  Just then, a stray animal passed in front of their car and Kyungsoo, out of shock, swerved to the right.  It was the older’s last thought that their hands were intertwined before their car plunged into the ravine.

Kyungsoo wakes up with a start and suddenly he feels nostalgic; his chest tightens and he cannot breathe.  Immediately Kyungsoo stumbles to the kitchen, gets the orange bottle and shakes out a pill, swallowing it with water.  The reaction is abrupt: he can now breathe well, his heart beating normally after a minute of deep breathing.

While he is blinking away the tears that formed in his eyes, there is a sharp rap in the door and immediately he stiffens, only to relax again at the sound of Jongin’s voice.

“Hyung, you ready?”

They go out of Kyungsoo’s building hand in hand, the rain mercifully stopping into a drizzle, then to a mist, then nothing.  They ride the bus in silence, the older one leaning his head once in a while on Jongin’s shoulder.   Not long after, they are walking down the side of the Han River, hand in hand, talking about the future—Kyungsoo’s, to be particular.

“After my leave, I was thinking if I could get a second job—“

“No, you will not get another job.”  Jongin takes one stern look at Kyungsoo and the other immediately dismisses the idea.

They both look at the peaceful river, their hopes and dreams unspoken but are shouted by their hearts, hoping that it would be heard by the heavens above.

“I hope this lasts, Jongin.  I really hope so.”  Kyungsoo whispers almost inaudible to the other.

Jongin did not respond but squeezes the Kyungsoo’s hand tightly, signaling a yes as a response.  They look at the eyes of each other and in the chaos of the world around they try to make the moment last.

They go home after eating a quick dinner and time seemed to slow down and fasten its pace at the same time.  They flipped channels endlessly, pausing for a quick kiss or two; sometimes even longer.  While the smaller rests his head on the other’s lap, Jongin starts Kyungsoo’s hair, removing the strands of stray brown hair that were falling down his face. 

 It was just after 11 when Jongin finally finds the strength to pull away from the smaller, now blinking sleepily on the couch.  He stands up, places Kyungsoo’s head on a throw pillow, and kisses his forehead.

“I love you.”

Kyungsoo hears these words before he went to slumber.