Tick. Tick. Tick.

The second hand of Jiyong’s sleek black wristwatch sweeps past the 12.

And Seungri is late, as usual.

Jiyong rolls his eyes, a smile playing on his lips as he thinks that he should have just left the house a few minutes later because Seungri wouldn’t be here anyway. But it doesn’t bother him; he actually takes pride in punctuality, unlike someone.

Glancing out of the café window next to him, he searches each passing face for the one he loves the most, wrinkling his nose in mild disappointment when none of them are Seungri. His fingertips rap erratically against the tabletop and his leg jiggles in an unconscious attempt to unravel some of his nerves.

A breathy laugh escapes his lips. It’s quite unbelievable how he still gets fluttery over the prospect of meeting Seungri even after knowing him for ten years. He’s so immersed in his pretty reverie of Seungri that his heart nearly leaps out of his throat when the real Seungri slides into the booth seat opposite him.

Upon setting his eyes on his lover, white shirt sleeves rolled up to expose his forearms and black tie hanging loose around his neck, Jiyong’s heart practically faints.

“Seungri-yah! You’re-” He steals a glimpse at his watch. “-eighteen minutes late. Just as I predicted you would be.” He folds his arms, huffing.

“Sorry, there was traffic on the way back from work,” Seungri apologises, but the way one side of his mouth is pulled into a grin says he’s not really sorry at all.

Which is okay because Jiyong isn’t really cross at all. But keeping up the charade, he turns his nose to the side and glares at him sideways.

Seungri’s face moulds into a pleading expression, eyebrows knotted and mouth pursed. “I am truly remorseful for the eighteen minutes I am tardy due to a circumstance completely out of my control. I would turn back time if I could and rectify my grave mistake.”

He tugs at Jiyong’s hand, unfolding his arms, and bring his knuckles to his lips. Seungri’s touch feels like sparklers against Jiyong’s skin. Jiyong chews on his lower lip to curb the grin threatening to infect his face and heaves a sigh of feigned reluctance.

“If you’re sincerely sorry, I guess I have to forgive you.” He intertwines their fingers across the table.

Seungri’s face lights up like the colourful strings of bulbs on a Christmas tree. “I miss you. My day feels so long without you.”

Jiyong squeezes his hand. “I’m here. And you saw me this morning.”

“But that was hours ago. Didn’t you miss me too?” Seungri tips his head to one side, pouting, and Jiyong battles the temptation to kiss him right here, right now.

“I do miss you, Seungri-yah. A lot more than you can imagine,” Jiyong whispers, his throat tightening a little around his words. “Too much, maybe.”

A bashful pink dyeing his cheeks, Seungri opens his mouth to speak but is interrupted by the waiter who sets their drinks on the table.

“I got your regular,” Jiyong says. “Strawberry milkshake.”

“You know me best.” Seungri winks and wraps his fingers around the glass with the hand that isn’t connected to Jiyong’s.

Jiyong’s eyes flicker to the white watch on Seungri’s wrist, identical to his own save the colour, and he grabs at his forearm to regard it closer.

“Aish you idiot, it’s still stopped. I told you to replace the batteries.”

“Sorry, sorry. I promise I was meaning to but it might have… slipped my mind?” Seungri cracks an apologetic smile and argh, it’s impossible for Jiyong to resent that face.

“It doesn’t even work yet you still put it on every morning.” He releases his arm. “Idiot.”

“It’s because you gave it to me. I can’t not wear it.” Seungri is still grinning and Jiyong is still wanting to kiss him.

“Idiot.” But Jiyong’s heart patters to the beat of adoration.

“Yes, I am, actually.” Seungri’s expression morphs into sombreness. “I almost got fired today because I tried to leave for my lunch break a few hours too early. I had to explain to my boss that my watch was stuck on 12:04 and I had assumed it was time to grab a bite.”

Milkshake nearly spurts from Jiyong’s nose as he explodes into raucous laughter, chest bubbling with unbelievable fondness. A few heads in the café turn his way, casting him wild looks, but all his attention is directed to the man in front of him.

“Then what happened?” Jiyong asks, mirth spilling from his tone.

“He stared at me like I had completely lost the plot.” Seungri pauses to wait for Jiyong to come back down to earth from laughter land before continuing. “Then he let me off. Out of pity, I think.”

“You-” Jiyong suppresses a snort, shaking his head. “-are the epitome of idiocy.”

“Well you must be an even bigger idiot for liking me so much.” Seungri’s mouth stretches into a honeyed smile.

Jiyong barks out an incredulous scoff but then shrugs in defeat. “Touché.”

“Anyway, I was a little out of it today because you kept me up so late last night.” Seungri’s voice drops a register. “I couldn’t concentrate on anything remembering the taste of your on my tongue.”

Jiyong chokes on his drink, this time some managing to spray out his nostrils. And the visual of Seungri on his straw really isn’t helping to quash the bloom of warmth in his pants.

He springs to his feet, yanking Seungri up with him. “Quick, let’s go home.”

~

Jiyong rakes his fingers through his freshly-showered hair and shakes out remaining water droplets from the strands, inhaling the scent of cleanliness and contentment. Strolling back into the bedroom, he pauses in his tracks to smile curiously at the sight of Seungri patting out the wrinkles in the bedsheets.

A vague apprehension twists in his gut but it’s gone before he can even grasp at the feeling.

He tilts his head to one side, so enamoured by the view of Seungri. “What’s the point of making the bed? It’s only going to get messed up again later.”

“Didn’t your mother teach you orderliness and organisation?” Seungri replies matter-of-factly as he tugs on the blanket and smooths it over the mattress. “You really wreaked havoc in these sheets and I want it to look presentable for my own peace of mind.”

“Wreak havoc? Me?” Jiyong slaps an offended hand over his chest. “You’re the one who was the sheets so tightly I was worried they would rip.”

Seungri freezes for a second, skin reddening to a delectable cherry shade. “Shut up. That’s your fault.”

“And I don’t regret it one bit.” A smirk crawls across Jiyong’s lips.

He momentarily considers diving onto the bed and nullifying Seungri’s diligent bed-making, just to push his buttons. But seeing the satisfaction etched on Seungri’s face as he dusts his hands to mark his completion, Jiyong scraps that thought and steps towards him.

“Seungri-yah, I’ll make us dinner, mmkay?” He places his hands on Seungri’s shoulders and squeezes them. “Rest. You must have exhausted all your energy thinking about me today.”

“Yeah, you really tire me out.”

Jiyong rewards him with a slap to the arm. “Oi, you better watch your mouth or you don’t know what I could slip into your food.”

Worry flashes across Seungri’s features but Jiyong simply tosses him a teasing smile before turning to head to the kitchen.

“Jiyong-ah!” Seungri’s voice trails behind him. “Don’t poison me.”

“Be nice and I’ll think about it,” he says as he digs through the fridge for ingredients.

“Please.”

Seungri sidles next to him, gluing himself to Jiyong’s side as he moves to the sink and then the counter.

“I’ll help you cook,” Seungri offers like he’s ready to pledge his life to Jiyong, who finally turns to face him.

He rests his hands on Seungri’s hips, gently guiding him backwards onto a chair at the dining table. Seungri juts his lower lip out and Jiyong kisses it back in.

“Sit. I won’t be long.” He pets the back of Seungri’s hair. “You can help by keeping me company.”

Seungri nods obediently and Jiyong resumes preparing the food, humming a tune of dancing hearts and tangled hands.

A smile splits across Jiyong’s face as an idea brews in his mind.

“Seungri-yaaaaah,” he drags out the syllable, relishing the feeling of sugarcoating it on his tongue. “How about you cut work tomorrow? And spend the whoooole day with me. Sounds like a plan, huh?”

When he’s met with no reply from behind, he pictures Seungri rolling his eyes like the adult he is, ready to lecture him about responsibilities and duty and boring stuff of the like.

Jiyong carries on undeterred. “Weather forecast says it’s going to rain tomorrow. You know rainy days are the best. We could stay inside and cuddle, maybe do a movie marathon. Or even just stay in bed the whole day. Yeah I’m cheesy, but c’mon, that’s an offer quite impossible to pass up.”

His eyebrows crease as he feels a strange trembling in his heart but he shrugs it off as butterflies. Seungri yet again refuses to respond.

“Yah, have you fallen asleep on me or someth–”

Jiyong whips around to find the chair deserted and empty. The unease from earlier returns intensified, knotting his insides in a way that makes him want to throw up.

“Seungri-yah…?” he ventures, every muscle unmoving.

Silence.

“Seungri-yah!”

Panic rises from the pit of his stomach and attacks at his chest where his heart sweats with anxiety. The back of his brain tells him he’s overreacting, geez Jiyong, calm down, but the voice is overridden by a piercing scream.

He automatically grabs at his head. “SEUNGRI!”

“Yeah?”

Jiyong’s heart almost collapses in relief when Seungri shuffles into the kitchen, still in one piece and unfazed.

He resists the urge to tackle Seungri in a hug, instead rooting himself to the spot. “Where’d you go? Y-you just disappeared.”

“I just took a piss.”

Jiyong releases his held breath.

Overreacting. That’s what it is. The scream was not real. Just in his head. Overreacting.

“You could have mentioned it.” He wipes his damp palms on his pants. “I was standing here talking to myself like a psychotic person.”

“I’m sorry, I was busting.” Why does Seungri’s sheepish smile feel so blurry? Jiyong blinks twice.

He draws in a slow breath and why are his organs still jumbled? “Dinner’s ready.”

“Smells so good!”

Setting the dishes onto the table, he offers Seungri a plastered smile. Everything is peachy. Everything is dandy. He has to show Seungri that.

“Hey, I’m going to get us a bottle of wine from downstairs,” Jiyong says. “Don’t start eating without me!”

“No promises.” Seungri waggles a teasing finger.

Jiyong chuckles softly, but the smile vanishes as soon as it comes. He’s anxious about parting from Seungri’s side, about even tearing his gaze away from him. But he needs to prove to himself that nothing’s wrong. That his paranoia is unfounded.

Seungri’s not going anywhere. He’s right here.

Maybe it’s the overwhelming love he has for Seungri that’s sending his brain haywire. Yeah, that must be it.

Seungri gives him a final wave before Jiyong turns to trudge to the cellar, legs growing exponentially heavier with each step, as if wicked hands are seizing his ankles to drag him down to the depths of hell. He forces himself not to spin around and run back and clutch Seungri’s body close, because Seungri will be there when he comes back. He will. He must.

The cellar door opens too noiselessly and something about the silence makes Jiyong’s gut swirl. Flicking on the lights, he pads down the stairs and towards the rows of wine bottles.

His stomach lurches.

A rancid stench assaults his nostrils, infiltrating his lungs and burning his eyeballs. Doubling over, he staggers to the bottle he’s looking for and yanks it out of its hole in the shelf, brain blaring like an alarm. Something is sticking out like a sore thumb amidst his glitching vision, a vague shape on the floor in the corner of the room.

Every fibre in his body screams NO but his legs are already stumbling towards it. It calls him like a Siren’s song, he’s aware it’s fatal but that doesn’t make it any less alluring. He feels like he’s slowly disintegrating, time stretching out excruciatingly.

Somewhere along the line the wine bottle slips out of his twitching fingers and lands with a crash, tainting the ground a dark red. But he barely registers.

Finally, finally, he makes it to the shape. It’s a large cloth concealing something long, and the word pall strikes his mind, but he doesn’t have the level-headedness to recall what that means.

All reason shrieks STOP but his trembling fingers are already reaching for the corner of the cloth, peeling it away to reveal…

His heart crashes once against his ribcage, then maybe it shuts down completely.

Strikingly familiar facial features.

Rotting. Decomposing. Putrefying.

“SEUNGRI!”

His feet scramble backwards on their own accord, deserting his head and heart paralysed on the spot. Whirling around, he clambers back into the kitchen, the reek of death following him like a curse.

Seungri will be sitting at the dining table and he will whine about Jiyong taking so long to come back that he almost starved to death and he will declare he still waited for Jiyong before touching his food despite his protesting stomach and he will claim it’s because he’s magnanimous like that.

He’s not lying on the cold floor of the cellar, he’s not black and bloated, he’s not–

The emptiness of the room lashes at Jiyong. The dinner sits stagnant on the dining table.

Seungri… must be in the bedroom, right?

Right?!

The colour slowly drains before his eyes, like he’s trapped in a black and white silent film, mouth wide and screaming but his ears hear no sound.

He fumbles through the door of their room and stops short. The sight before him smacks him in the face.

His eyes dart around – from the crumpled mayhem of the bedsheets to the cigarettes and filthy laundry littering the floor to the spider web of shattered glass in place of the window to the trail of crimson on the carpet – trying to gather bits of visual to stitch the scene together. But the pieces clash and the edges don’t fit and the more sense he tries to make, the less sense it makes.

And Seungri is not here.

Jiyong feels as if Seungri slipped right through his fingers. An eerie inkling of déjà vu haunts him.

The wall clock is smashed and distorted, almost like something out of Salvador Dali painting. The clock hands are forever frozen on 12:04.

No.

This is not their room– this– this can’t be. Seungri had just made the bed. Jiyong had never touched a stick of cigarette when Seungri was around. The window had been intact as far as Jiyong recalls–

A burst of lightning. A howl of thunder. JIYONGJIYONGJIYONG.

He snaps his head to the window.

No, he shakes his head violently, that was an illusion, a nightmare, a trick of the mind. The body in the cellar can’t be Seungri because Seungri is alive and breathing and he will be here when Jiyong wakes up tomorrow morning. As long as he tells himself so.  

The world is spinning rapidly on its axis, flinging his thoughts every which way. Accusatory fingers point at him from every corner of the room. He raises his quaking palms to his face, and although the world is monochrome, his hands are red red red.

He totters to the bed as the light dims, dimmer, and collapses.

Black.

~

Bright.

Jiyong’s eyelids flutter open to find brown eyes, soft and curved lovingly, gazing right into his own, enveloped in a cocoon of warmth from the body pressed to and tangled with his. The thought that this is his favourite part of the day weaves into his contented heart.

“Good morning, babe,” Seungri coos, morning voice low and croaky and perfect, and his mouth curls into a gentle smile.

“Good morning, handsome.” Jiyong blinks slowly to chase the sleep out of his eyes, returning the smile.

Seungri radiates an ethereal glow in between streams of morning light and Jiyong presses a chaste kiss to his lips. Seungri’s breath fans across Jiyong’s face.

“Don’t go to work today.” Jiyong buries his face in Seungri’s chest and puts on his best baby voice. “Pwease.”

The vibration of Seungri’s chuckle tingles against Jiyong’s cheeks. Seungri caresses the back of Jiyong’s head and if this doesn’t define comfort, Jiyong doesn’t know what does.

“I actually wasn’t planning to,” Seungri says. “Your offer about cuddling in bed all day was too tempting to pass up.”

Jiyong retracts in pleasant surprise, features exploding into a grin. “So you’re staying with me, then?”

Seungri nods and tightens his hold on Jiyong. “I’ll be with you forever, for as long as you want me.”

~~~

A/N: So yeap, this was a sequel to Window. Didn't want to mention that in the foreword cos y'know, spoiler alert lol. Honestly was never planning a sequel but yeah, this happened. Happy Halloween, btw! Hehe I guess this story fits well with the occassion.