The lights create impossible colours on his eyes, painting them with all kind of brown and shades, melting them away in his bright irises, a kaleidoscope of coffee, caramel, chocolate, and love. 

He can see himself reflected on them, his own feels and emotions because those eyes know him, they can pierce through his mind, exposing himself like a book that only him can read. A story about love and fate. A story about them. 

The night is fading away, the sun lazy rising up across the window, the morning rays are illuminating the room, a palette of gleam and darkness, as if they are trying to draw him on the roof, on the floor, everywhere. Because he is shine, but he is also blackness and dark, he is more than the sum of his parts, he is everything, more than perfection, more than desperation, more than anyone will ever imagine. He had learned it a long time ago,  and he loves him despite all of it, despite those parts that make him dull and foggy. He is not perfect, as much as he pretends him to be, but his love for him has no limits, no borders, it's infinite. 

Jinwoo takes a seat next to him, the bed cracking under his lightweight, his arm slightly touching his, his hand reaching for his, interlacing fingers and gently pushing them closer. It feels soft and rough, like the contradiction that he is. His head rests peacefully on his shoulder, fitting perfectly there, as if it was meant to be, like a puzzle piece. 

Slowly, carefully, he brings him to himself, catching his chin under his palm, and turning his head to meet him, eyes against eyes, a fight of chestnut and hazel that he already knows he is going to lose. Because Jinwoo's eyes are irresistible, so intense, so glistening that he shatters, getting drunk on them, getting lost and found.

He closes his eyes and the space between them, too. 

He nibs his lips gently, slowly the marks that his teeth are making, those red sores that he will take care of, kissing them until they disappear in a sea of pink and rose. His tongue is caressing it, languidly, nonchalantly, as if they have all the time in the world, without a rush, enjoying the mere touch, relishing on his flavour, savouring the feeling of Jinwoo smiling for him, his mouth partially opened, the edges tracing a perfect curb that Mino loves the most. And he kisses him there, too, the corner of his grin, the cherub curb that gives form to that scarlet heart of him. His tongue goes up, following his cheeks, leaving a hot trace of wet, until he reaches that spot, that single freckle. He kisses them all, with so much love and care that melts the soft skin, turning it red. 

He presses his lips against him and lets the coldness that is Jinwoo's hands hold his neck, sketching patterns he can't define, abstract forms that talk about devotion, about desire, about them. His fingers move around, up until his nape, playing smoothly with his thick hair. And then he massages it, making Mino glide to oblivion, to halcyon, so relaxed, back to a dream. 

Then is Jinwoo who gives him a quick peek, a light touch of lips. But he wants more, he wants everything... He is always that greedy for him, for this boy he is desperate in love with. So he opens his eyes and kisses him again. And Jinwoo kisses him back, giggling, happy to feel him, his hands embracing him, holding him tight, around his back. He is a pouring rain of kisses, of gentle over his shoulder, moving back and forth trough Jinwoo's lips to his exposed neck, long and desirable. He kisses his Adam's Apple and he moans softly as if he is embarrassed by it. But he keeps going because he can't stop himself. His lips adore any single spot of that milky skin, and his fingers start joining all his freckles there, playing with them, drawing his face, using it as his own canvas, as his masterpiece. 

Kissing Kim Jinwoo is like having butterflies fluttering around, wings on his lips, ready to fly, ready to go. It is sweet and sour, an explosive convention of love, lust, and desire that he can't cope with all. Sometimes it is just overwhelming, lips so slow and torturing. Other times is just a delicate touch that feels like an eternity, and he wants to stay there, in between his lips.

Now his hands are encircling his small frame, his thumbs tracing his cheekbones, a smooth brush that paces at the same time as his heartbeats; slow, sweet, full of adoration, filled with all those feelings that only Kim Jinwoo ignites in him. 

His breath is warm over his tanned skin, a breeze that turns his body into golden dust, a bonfire of delight and love. His legs now are tangled around his waist, his little shape resting on his chest. He bits his own lips in relish while feeling the bubbles blast, his fizzy blood running wild. He just wants to feel him, keep catching his lips, kissing them as if there is no other way or tomorrow. And then Jinwoo pushes him to the bed, his nose tickling his neck, his hair a mess over his face. And he laughs, breathing hard on his bones, dissolving them until they don't exist anymore until Mino is totally under his spell. 

Jinwoo's eyes are shooting stars, so bright that it hurt to watch, but still, Mino stares into them, sinking, dying, as he has always done, because those orbs filled with light are his preciousness, what he adores the most. He can live on them, inside those forests that feel like home. 

In moments like those, when Jinwoo is looking into his eyes, kissing him gently, Mino feels like he is kissing an angel, an ethereal creature meant only to be worship, adored, loved beyond any bond. He looks iridescent under the white light, his pale skin contrasting with the dark of his, his eyes shining like diamonds, gleaming like stars on fire, reflecting his own love, that strange love Jinwoo shares with him. In moments like those Mino feels blessed, because he loves him too because he is loved by an angel.  

Sometimes loving him feels so right, making him light, like flying across the sky, above heaven. 

But other times it feels just wrong, out of place. How can he love him back? It's an error, a mistake, a dream someday he is going to awake from. Because Jinwoo can't be real, he is so far from a normal guy like Mino. And sometimes even touching him feels like corruption, the worst act committed to a pure soul like him. He should be sacred and Mino should be punished for what he did to him, how he erted him, with kisses and touches and making him moan in delight, whispering his name, only for him. 

And Mino can't live without him, without his laugh, his voice, his smile, his eyes, his touch, his love. Kim Jinwoo is harder than any drug; he is so deep in his system, his name burns in his blood, his hands writing over his skin, possessing him, marking him as his own. And his mind is so filled with him, every single piece of his screams for him, to come closer, to come to him. His mind and soul belong forever to him, he is never going to end this, their love. He is addicted and he knows there is no remedy, he will always be. And, even if he could change it, he would still fall for him, head over toes. Always. 

Because been loved by Kim Jinwoo is better than words, better than anything. Been loved by him is like stepping into a cloud, three steps above heaven.