it is sheer panic that brings jongin to his feet at 2:49 am of a quiet december, rummaging through his closet for a thick wool coat, and an even thicker pair of socks, feet as quick as it could take him to a place as close as home.

it is fear that makes him sprint through the empty streets of the city, barely shivering into his sweater, breathing heavily under the snow until he arrives at his destination with his heart in his throat. he knocks softly, hears shuffling behind the door, and it is sehun’s eyes, swollen and lost, that makes him press his lips into a thin line, worry creasing his brows.

sehun greets him with a hiccup, a sob threatening to break, but jongin doesn’t ask―doesn’t pester him with what’s wrong or don’t cry or it’s going to be okay because jongin isn’t ever sure if it really will be. he merely keeps quiet, even as he ushers sehun to the couch, wrapping sehun with a blanket, pulling him close and planting kisses on his forehead. jongin knows all too well that words could only do so much to sehun, so when he calms, jongin pulls gently away, socked feet padding around the apartment.

the dvd player hums to life when jongin puts sehun’s favorite movie in, fluffing the pillows around his best friend while the opening credits roll in. sehun remains perfectly still, blinking back tears to the first few lines of harry hart. jongin plods to the kitchen to make tea (honey-lemon with a dash of milk, sehun’s personal favorite) while he bakes thin strips of bacon in maple syrup, fries a couple of eggs, and lets a bowl of oreo o’s steep in cold milk until they’re soggy (just the way sehun likes it).

sehun is still unmoving, apart from his jaw that tenses slightly from chewing whatever jongin feeds him, but the tears have long dried and he shows no sign of crying again anytime soon.

or so jongin hopes.

jongin still doesn’t ask, doesn’t even make a sound more than a chuckle under his breath at eggsy’s jabs. but he does want to kiss sehun’s stupid mouth silly, to tell him it will be alright, that it’s okay, i’ve got you. but jongin―jongin is perfect in the silence. he doesn’t nag, doesn’t seek for attention or sing out-of-key in the shower. he is an enigma, quite like the first snowfall or the sunset over still waters, but he loves greatly and wordlessly. he will love until it is all that is left of him to give, more than himself, and sehun will come to know one day. someday.

the clock ticks 5:16 am when jongin’s stomach grumbles, and he flushes at the sound, attempts to cover it with a cough on his hand. the bowl of cereal is barely touched, and the chocolate melts into the milk, but the mere sight of it makes jongin gulp. carefully, like he is afraid that what little sound could break sehun’s peace, he brings a spoonful into his mouth―

only to choke and break into a coughing fit, and it’s ridiculous, really, how hilarious he thinks he looks while beating a fist against his chest to calm himself. like a deer caught in the headlights, he throws sehun a wary glance, apologetic and teary eyed, and is met with a placid stare. for a moment, everything was in a complete standstill with their gazes locked as jongin tried to catch his breath, heartbeat erratic (from gasping for air or sehun’s eyes, he can’t really tell).

but slowly, like the rising sun on winter mornings, sehun’s lips begin to curve into a smile, cheeks dusting pink until a laughter bubbles out of his chest, spilling into the hollow space between jongin and him, his eyes disappearing into the crescents jongin had come to love. it isn’t long before jongin joins him, chortling albeit his embarrassment. jongin waits for the teasing when the laughter dies down, the you’re so dumb or that was a pretty impressive stunt you pulled, but it doesn’t come. only a smile, timid and grateful, remains (and hey, jongin’s heart really hasn’t stopped hammering against his ribcage).

‘will you stay, jongin, and watch the sunrise with me?’

the first words ever spoken―gentle, serene, and hopeful. the smile on sehun’s lips is distracting and the little stirrings in jongin’s chest tells him it’s way better than any sunrise.

‘i’ll be right here.’