Seungcheol jerks awake with the sudden pain that seared hot all throughout the shell of his ear. The discomfort is only barely lifting away when the hand again twists his piercing, sending another set of pain to his already numbing ear.

“What the fu-” he goes to say as he adjusts his post slumber eyes to the dark contrast of the room but he spots Jeonghan sitting on the floor in his side of the bed, looking furious and annoyed at the same time. He's confused so he shuts his mouth especially when the other starts violently dabbing away what looks like tears—yes, those are tears, Seungcheol confirmsㅡ as though he's angry at himself for crying.

Jeonghan hardly ever cries, that is one fact Seungcheol found out after living with his lover for over years. If he ever does cry, he makes sure Seungcheol doesn't see him. 

“You won't wake up,” Jeonghan complains, annoyance breeding into tantrum.

Seungcheol already noticed what is happening.

The older's heart twists at the sight, dark spacious room with a hunched figure in the corner, and he doesn't know how Jeonghan does that to him. Ever since, it has been like an unwritten axiom that what Jeonghan feels must mirror Seungcheol's too. Most times, it has come to the point that Seungcheol unconsciously just stares at Jeonghan and his mind would dislodge and well, he'll continue staring like it's a very normal thing to do. 

It isn't and their friends had already called him out for being so whipped and disgustingly sweet, if that's possible—at times, it’s just plain disgusting.

So it's a bit funny when he found out about Jeonghan's doubt on him, less than two years ago after a major fight where they ended having make up , post soccer game.

And right now, with Jeonghan silently crying in front of him, he expects for the worst case scenario: probably another problem, a major one, considering the fact that the last time he saw him cry was... he really doesn't want his thoughts to walk through that but it just did and now he's suddenly scared.

Willing all his energy to fight off the whispers of sleep, he sits up and scoots away so he could make more room on the bed for the younger. "Want to talk about it, baby? What's the matter?"

To that, Jeonghan's face shifts from only an adorable pout to a full blown scowl. He doesn't like being coaxed when he's pissed and Seungcheol wants to hit himself for forgetting about that. “Why are you like this?” the other asks in a forced angry tone.

"Why?" he groggily whispers, as if he's walking on tiptoes, afraid to plunge into cold hard furious Jeonghan. Really, he just doesn't want any of those past events to happen again. But then, he'd rather have bad nights with the younger than pleasant ones without him. He’s that whipped, it’s embarrassing. "What did I do?"

“Nothing.” Much to his surprise, Jeonghan hastily climbs on their bed, draping himself almost immediately to Seungcheol: face buried on his chest, arms wrapped around his waist. He keens and Seungcheol's breathe ing falters. 

The older notices Jeonghan's still in his work clothes and the red numbers staring right at him from their bedside table tells him it's fifteen minutes past two am. He must be really tired, which leads him to slowly pulling Jeonghan down into the comforts of the bed. He also starts drawing soft calming circles using his palm against the other's waist whilst the latter softly purrs into his neck, still crying; obliging without much struggle. “Do you want water? You just got home.”

Jeonghan's arms only tightens around him.

No, he doesn't want water. Seungcheol can supply himself that.

What Seungcheol doesn't know is how it all transpired to this. What once he thought was a college fling—because he was once an —turned into something he really can't understand, nor let go. Jeonghan suddenly is everywhere, and to say that his thoughts dwell on him is a misconception. His thoughts build on him, strong and very much stable.

It has been hard, he knew. Complication isn't his forte. For all his life, he stayed inside the comfortable clichés although the onslaught of popularity for being the soccer team captain increased his chances on the pedestal. He was never the one to cause chaos much more an affair.

But one night, when they were finishing a half-assed project on Statistics 2, he realized Jeonghan isn’t someone he could just fool around with: playing on the floor with the neighbor's puppy and laughing as the ball of fur pounced on him.

They say you’re supposed to hinder yourself in finding perfection in someone else once you’re already committed to somebody but it isn’t all in black and white—there are in-betweens, and within that, Seungcheol finds himself casted.

How do you actually find home in somebody else's arms and deny it at the same time?

It was four a.m. and he says " it".

“I'm sorry,” the younger suddenly chokes out, squirming in his position in the bed and Seungcheol isn't sure if he's relieved or even more worried that he finally talked after being quiet for ten long minutes. "I'm r-really sorry." The younger's voice cracks this time and his breathing starts to stumble out of rhythm.

"Hey," he pulls him away so he could wipe the tears streaming out his face. He makes sure to use his soft voice but this only makes Jeonghan cry (angrily, if that’s possible) even more. "Hey, it's okay, sweetie. Whatever is bothering you, I won't be mad about it so you can tell me."

Because it has always been that way, hasn't it? Seungcheol succumbing to Jeonghan's whims, even though sometimes he finds them cunning and childish.

It's always “Seungcheol, do this” and “Seungcheol, do that”. He really can’t say no (he tried head locking him already: futile).

There was one time he pried off Jeonghan's routine, taking himself all the way back to his hometown, Daegu. Because back in their arrangement, Seungcheol met the most evils of himself: guilt and passion. He was so ridden and but he wasn't immoral, or so he thought he could push off his own monsters because two months later had him flying back to Seoul after one—take note, only one—particular missed call from Jeonghan.

There was really no going back, that night. He's in too deep the moment he showed up at the younger's front door at 11 in the evening. 

“You'll be mad. For sure.”

“No. I promise.”

Jeonghan glares at him, first, as if he’s threatening to burn Seungcheol’s identity if he ever gets mad and then with a deep breath, he admits, “I accidentally caused a scratch to your Chevy.”

“What the hell?” Seungcheol shoots up and Jeonghan is ready to burst into tantrum again, only to be yanked up and be hastily twisted around by the other. “Did you get into an accident? Are you okay? Why the didn't you tell me earlier? A cellphone is just one press away, Jeonghan! Are you in one piece? Does anything hu—“ 

He slaps Seungcheol once and that seemed to work because he stopped overreacting and yet even though he now knows Seungcheol isn't close to being mad, he cries again anyway because he's dramatic and he likes being spoiled and being reassured of the other's love for him. “But that's like your favorite car!”

“Come here,” Seungcheol gathers him in his arms and situates him in his lap where fitting in is now harder because Jeonghan's growing taller close to his height. He rests his head on Seungcheol's broad shoulder though. “I'll have it done next week. You're my favorite human. That totally beats it.”

“Still, your father gave that to you,” he murmured, sounding very apologetic.

“The heavens gave you to me.”

Jeonghan rolls his eyes, tears now finally gone and what's left is only relief and warmth in his gut. Seungcheol knows Jeonghan likes to mask his fondness for him as annoyance because affection has always been hard for him: both to give and to receive. But he also knows that he is the living evidence that Jeonghan's not always right about himself. And he prides himself for that.

“You even call that car your baby.”

“I call you baby, too. Don't worry about it too much. It's just a car. The important thing is you're not in any way harmed,” Seungcheol playfully slaps Jeonghan's perk , which was sticking out because he's lazily slumped onto the other. “Let's sleep. You must be stressed.”

“Stop slapping me, .”

“That's something you don't say in bed.”

"What the hell," Jeonghan blandly says, hastily flinging away from the man and into the covers of their bed. “You really are something, you .”

ing cute.

And he's ing in love.

“I just hope the scratch isn't that bad.”

It doesn't take long for Jeonghan to scoot back into Seungcheol's personal space, always the intruder, when they're both about ready to let sleep take over. Backing almost impossibly close until he could feel the elder’s chest pressed warm against his back and his arm draped around his waist as if on automatic cue, he whispers, "I thought you were more concerned about me."

"You just called me when you were the one who cried over a car scratch," Seungcheol's laughter vibrates through his being, swell and happy, and it's kind of contagious so Jeonghan laughs too.

"It is a precious car.