ion square, perspex swings
i breathe out, you breathe in

 

Jiho inhaled. 

Mango and coconut. Hojoon's shampoo. 

The elder was sprawled out across him, head tucked under Jiho's chin, their breathing synchronised. 

 

permanent midnight 
our love, our love

 

Jiho loved nights. He always had. But he was pretty sure he preferred them now. He would take Hojoon snuggled into his side, arm draped loosely over his waist, nose whistling lightly as the elder slept beside him over staggering around off his face at 4am any day. 

Hojoon stirred in his arms, Jiho smiled gently at the soft whining noises the brunette always made when he woke up.

"What time's it?"

"Just after midnight."

 

how we've come to depend 
on each other to the end
the space between us has disappeared
you finish my, you finish my words for me

 

Hojoon tilted his head to look up at the blonde, his caramel hair all mussed up on one side.

Jiho surveyed his boyfriend's face; his soft cheeks, the slight tan of his skin, his delicate pink lips settled into a gentle smile, his dark, catlike eyes, framed with long eyelashes and smudged eyeliner he couldn't really be bothered to take off after getting in from work. He hummed slightly as Hojoon's hand skimmed over his bare torso, arm wrapping tighter around him. He rubbed small circles into the elder's shoulder blades with the pads of his fingers.

They fit together perfectly. It was a cliché, but they really were like two pieces of a puzzle. They needed one another. Jiho wasn't sure what it was like to be without Hojoon anymore. They were a part of each other.

It had been seven years. Seven years since he met Hojoon. Seven years since their first drunken kiss in that grimy club. Two extroverts, often fighting for attention, raised decibels, the wild nights they spent together, the parties, the alcohol, the drugs, the arrests. He couldn't believe he would ever be happy with something like this. But Hojoon changed all that. They had matured, he guessed.

"Happy anniversary, baby." Hojoon smiled reaching up to press a chaste kiss to the younger's lips.

 

i remember how it began

 

Jiho's head was spinning. He'd had far too many shots. 

Pink. White. Blue. Red. 

He could barely make out any faces among the flashing lights as he swayed to the music. He had no idea where his friends had disappeared to. His vision was hazy as he stumbled into someone.

"Hey!" The someone elbowed him in the ribs. "You spilled my ing drink."

"Woah." Jiho's eyes fell on the short blonde glaring up at him. At least he thought he was blonde, his hair had a tint of baby blue, but he wasn't sure if that was just from the lighting. "Cute."

Jiho clamped his jaw shut. That was meant to be a thought not said out loud. 

The blonde's expression softened. "You think I'm cute, huh?" His index finger hooked in between the buttons of Jiho's shirt. "Then you can buy me another drink."

He was still surprised he didn't fall over as Hojoon dragged him to the bar. Getting drunk when your limbs were as long as Jiho's was always a problem, he was rarely in control. 

He couldn't take his eyes off Hojoon as the elder danced around him. The way his hips moved, his fingers running through his hair, how he pressed up against Jiho, arms looped around the taller boy’s waist, encouraging him to sway along to the beat. 

"You have pretty lips."

"What?" He could barely make out what Hojoon was saying over the loud bass of the club. 

"I said, you have pretty lips!" Hojoon rose up on his toes, voice raised just as the music died down a little. He giggled to himself softly as a few pairs of eyes fell on them, the tips of Jiho's ears reddening. 

He lunged forwards, wanting to know if Jiho's lips felt as good as they looked. They did. He liked the way the small metal ball above Jiho's Cupid's bow felt against his skin. He tasted a little like tequila, but Hojoon didn't mind; he probably tasted like rum anyway. He whimpered, jaw dropping without Jiho even having to ask for an entrance as long fingers tangled in his hair. 

Jiho's head was swimming, and he was pretty sure it wasn't just because of how much he had drank. He moaned lowly as mental clinked against his teeth. He had always had a thing for piercings, Hojoon was no exception. 

"Hojoon!"

It ended all too quickly as one of Hojoon's friends called for him; clearly he had gotten separated from his friends too. His mind was hazy, a mixture of alcohol and...lust? Love at first sight? No that was crazy, there was no way something like that existed. He barely registered what was happening as Hojoon pushed the sleeve of his shirt up, revealing his forearm. He had no idea what Hojoon was doing scrawling on his arm in liquid eyeliner, but he hoped it wouldn't rub off before he had sobered up the next day. 

And then he was gone. Pulled back through the crowd of people by what Jiho could only assume was his friend. He hoped it was his friend. What if it was his boyfriend? 

He couldn't see Hojoon anymore, and he wasn't in any fit state to look for the other. Or any of his friends for that matter. He made his way out of the club, just managing to flag down a taxi and get himself home. He wished his eyes would focus properly so he could decipher what the black marks on his arm were. 

 

so many great days in a row
barefoot on bishopsgate
trying to find blake's grave

 

The next day he figured out it was Hojoon's phone number. It took him a while to muster up the courage to dial the faded numbers, but he had never regretted it since. 

Hojoon was exactly what he needed. Jiho had finally met his match. Someone to challenge him. Someone to push him out of his comfort zone. Someone to go out with for a casual drink and come home four days later after a spontaneous trip to Amsterdam. Someone to mill around the city with. Someone to . Someone to cause trouble with. Someone to find new interests with. Someone to fall in love with. 

It didn't take long. For him to fall in love. For Hojoon to move in. After only a couple of weeks Jiho wasn't sure he could bear waking up without him, or Hojoon waking up with anyone else.

 

if we could stay like this in a silver foil 
trapped in amber for a life
permanent midnight
our love, our love

 

"Happy anniversary, Joon."

He really didn't know when they became 'anniversary' people. When they preferred spending time with one another, just lying in bed instead of partying until they got bored and Hojoon finding himself pinned to the bathroom wall of some dingy club screaming Jiho's name. When they were younger he lived for the nights. Wished they'd never end. He still felt the same, but for completely different reasons. 

 

i carry your heart here with me
i carry it in my heart
i carry your heart with me
i carry it in my heart

 

Hojoon's fingers ghosted over the constellation of dots and stars inked into Jiho's skin, on the left side of his chest, just above his heart. Scorpio. Hojoon's star sign. He had a matching Aquarius one in the exact same place.

He smiled to himself as he remembered getting them. One night in Ibiza, on Hojoon's 23rd birthday, they staggered into some tattoo parlour. Their parents had been getting on at them; Jiho sister was engaged, and they didn't see why the two of them weren't thinking about their future in the same way. But that just wasn't them. They didn't need rings or big family gatherings with expensive suits and flowers and vows. It all just seemed like a waste of money, something for their parents to show off to old friends. They didn't need some piece of paper to prove they were in love, they already knew they were. It didn't matter to them who else knew.

That's where the tattoos came from. They were private, intimate, in a place only one another would see. They didn't have an obvious meaning to most people. It was just for them.

 

who said unbroken happiness
is a bore, is a bore?
who said it, my love? i don't mind it
anymore, anymore

 

Hojoon was known as a party animal throughout his youth. He would skip school, sneak into pubs and clubs, go home with men twice his age. If anyone would have told 20 year old Hojoon that he would spend his nights curled up in the arms of the same man he'd been with for seven years watching period dramas and reminiscing about their day at work; he would have laughed in their face. Back then, that was his idea of hell. Being boring was his idea of hell.

But was it really that boring? Being in love with one man? Wanting to spend as much time as possible with that one man? Even if that time mainly involved just lying around doing nothing?

He wasn't so sure it was anymore. He never felt bored with Jiho. He felt happy, happier than he ever imagined anyone could feel. How could that be boring? If anything, it got the point where getting smashed every night became boring.  

 

and i reach out a hand over your side of the bed
pull that blanket over your shoulders exposed to the night
and the hunger of those early years will never return
but i don't mind, i don't mind

 

It was weird. They were both two of the loudest people they knew when they were in company. Jiho's raucous laughter would accompany Hojoon's quick wit. It was something everyone always commented on. They were the life and soul of the party, even if the parties they attended these days were less sambuca shots and dancing and more red wine and cheeseboards.

But when it was just the two of them, they were more than happy to lie in a comfortable silence. They didn't need to constantly keep talking to one another. It wasn't like they didn't have anything to talk about anymore, it just wasn't necessary. There was nothing he loved more than absentmindedly playing guitar, head rested in Jiho's lap as the younger thumbed through a magazine.

He never imagined it would be like this between them.

He had loved his life when he was younger. He had loved waking up with a dull pain in his lower back and a pounding in his head. He had loved the numbing sensation of snorting . He had loved dancing til the sun came up. He had loved dealing with hangovers by getting even more drunk the next morning.

But now...it was something he didn't even think about. He had no interest in that. He didn't yearn for the good old days at all.

 

cause i love my mind when i'm ing you
slowed down to a crawl
years of crime and the bread line
have not at all dimmed your shine

 

Hojoon gasped as Jiho moved inside him, eyes fluttering shut as he whispered out the younger's name.

Even this wasn't boring to them; taking it slow. Gone were the days of Hojoon pouncing on Jiho as soon as the younger got home. Gone were the sneaky s under tables. Gone were the lovebites and handcuffs and chokers. Gone was the daily ing.

Jiho couldn't actually remember the last time they were this intimate; there was once a time where that was mainly how they communicated, through ing. But now, it just wasn't necessary anymore. Sure, they still made love, they still had , Jiho still found Hojoon insatiable. But it wasn't the main focus of their relationship.

Jiho moaned as Hojoon's legs tightened around his waist, pulling him in closer, their chests flush against one another, breath heavy, skin glistening with a thin layer of sweat as moved in tandem.

Even after everything, he still adored Hojoon. Even after that time they were both thrown in the back of a police car when Hojoon convinced him they should steal the takings from their local pub's till. Even after that huge argument that almost brought them to breaking point. Even after being evicted from their first flat together due to skipping paying rent for almost three months. Even through all the ty jobs and overdrafts and microwave meals back when they could barely afford to eat. Hojoon was still perfect to him, he still shone.

Everything seemed to slow down as Hojoon's eyes locked on his own. His eyelids were heavy, irises dark, swimming with something he recognised. It wasn't lust or passion like it would have been in the past. He was fairly certain it was love. 

 

so let's stay in, let the sofa be our car

 

They didn't need the road trips or spontaneous excursions. 

 

let's stay in, let the tv be our stars

 

They didn't need the romantic picnics that turned into late night stargazing. 

 

i found my dancing shoes but they don't fit

 

They didn't need the clubs where they spent their youth; where they met. 

 

all the bright lights they do is bore me

 

They didn't need Paris or New York or Milan. 

 

they bore me

 

They didn't need the sloppy public displays of affection strewn across social media.

 

they bore me

 

All they needed was each other. 

 

i carry your heart here with me 
i carry it in my heart
i carry your heart with me
i carry it in my heart