Hyukjae wakes up earlier than he normally does that morning, to distant sounds of honking cars and busy traffic he had grown accustomed to over the years.

He cranes his neck painfully to the side to check the clock, and relaxes when he sees he still has plenty of time left before his designated time to get out of bed and carry on with his daily morning routines.

Hyukjae pushes all thoughts of work and routines from his mind as a warm lump next to him shifts slightly and sighs. He shifts his attention to the said warm lump that’s now pressed and snuggled against his chest, and admires the way the sunlight from behind him casts shadows onto prettily fanned out eyelashes, a prominent nose and thin, slightly parted lips from which soft snores and sighs are escaping. He admires the way the soft, faintly scented, messy brown hair falls over a high forehead and accentuates a handsome jawline.

Hyukjae lies there quietly and just admires; he takes in the breathtaking sight of this man, the love of his life, the quintessence of masculine beauty that is just inches from his face, and he marvels at how Donghae is still as beautiful - still as handsome - as he was all those years before, when he was still just a pubescent fourteen-year-old - all awkward limbs, bright eyes and shy smiles.

Instead of reluctantly pulling his arm away from the waist of his lover’s warm body and untangling their legs slowly to make sure Donghae doesn’t wake up like he does every other day, Hyukjae continues to stare at the face of the person he had grown together with and fell in love with.

He starts circling his thumb mindlessly on Donghae’s bare hip, arm draped comfortably atop Donghae’s abdomen, and thinks about this man that he has spent more than half of his life with, this man who has been most of his first everything and knows him better than he knows himself. This man who has stayed by his side through all thick and thin, had loved and accepted him even when no one else did and has come to mean the world and everything to him.

His thoughts are cut off when Donghae scrunches his nose up cutely from having the sunlight shine in his eyes too long, and he starts stirring sleepily.

When Donghae opens his eyes, suddenly Hyukjae is his back to being his awkward fourteen-year-old self. He falls in love with Donghae all over again.

“What are you doing up so early?” Donghae murmurs sleepily, yawning in a manner too adorable to be humanly possible for a middle-aged man.

Hyukjae smiles brilliantly and leans in to give Donghae a kiss that’s a sum of all the kisses they’ve had over the past three decades. There are no more fireworks and string orchestrations in the background anymore, but it still overwhelms Hyukjae’s senses, fills him up with nothing but love and contentment, and makes his heart race a hundred miles per hour, threatening to jump out his throat and beat out his chest.

Everything narrows down to this: the sensation of feeling how perfectly Donghae’s lips fit and meld against his; the tingling feeling of Donghae’s strong fingers sliding inside the back of his sweater and his back along the hemline of his boxers; the lightheadedness that comes with the feeling of his entire body flooding with pleasurable sensations and an emotion that no words could ever possibly properly describe or articulate, except maybe the repeated mantras of “I love this” and “I love you” that never stops running in his mind.

Donghae is understandably a bit bewildered at the sudden tenderness that started his day off, but regardless he is entirely welcoming and eager of the change.

Hyukjae pulls away from the slow, languid kiss, and brings a hand up to run his fingers along a smooth cheek and sharp jawline.

“Nothing much,” he replies belatedly. “Just watching you and thinking how you are still so gorgeous after all these years,” he whispers, and delights in the flush that colors Donghae’s cheeks.

Donghae scowls playfully at Hyukjae’s teasing, gummy smile, and leans up slightly to peck at Hyukjae’s lips, successfully erasing the stupid grin off his stupid face.

Hyukjae’s comment is left unanswered as Donghae ignores it in favor of planting a series of loving pecks on Hyukjae’s face and lips, before flopping his head back on the pillow and looking up at Hyukjae.

“Good morning, Hyukkie,” Donghae mumbles cutely.

A bright, wide, trademark gummy smile stretches across Hyukjae’s face as his arm winds around Donghae’s waist, hand gripping a firm hip.

“Good morning, beautiful.”

And if the kiss he had given Donghae earlier was the sum of all the kisses they had shared in the past, then this brilliant, beautiful and happy smile that was currently gracing his own face and lighting up his features must be the sum of all their past years of happiness and all the years to come.