My eyes linger on his form. Its small compared to mine. Teasing him about it is one of my favourite things actually.

His knees are pulled to his chest, a thick fleece plaid blanket, blue and grey, draped over himself. He holds a book to his face, allowing me access to only a mop of messy brown curls- warm and rich in colour like the cup of coffee on the table at his side, clouds of steaming swirling up from the vintage mug.

The wind howls outside, rain beating down on the rooftop but the air in here is still and silent.
His toes push themselves under my thigh. They’re unbelievably cold- always are. But he radiates warmth, comfort, happiness.

I chuckle at the thought. He stops mid-page turn and lowers the book a little, eyebrows shooting up in question and curious eyes peering at me from over the hardcover.

“What?” he asks, voice slightly muffled.

“What, what?” I respond, knowing that it’ll irritate him.

Those dark brown orbs narrow into slits. He huffs and then lifts the book once more, burying his nose between the pages.

My stomach is full with light golden pancakes bathed in sticky brown maple syrup and tongue doused in rich, warm cocoa. The scent still permeates the air even now- a whole two hours later.

Jjangu lays comatose at my feet, his soft fur tickling my soles every time he breathes. The other two must be on their doggie beds.

It’s a typical Sunday afternoon.

I love rainy days.

But I love Kim Jongdae more.

“How’s this?” he turns to face me.

I give him an appreciative once-over, smiling broadly. He’s breath-takingly beautiful in his form fitting navy blue pinstriped suit, shiny black loafers and hair styled neatly into a perfect coif.

“I wish this was our wedding. It almost feels like it,” I reply, basking in the swooping of my stomach when his cheeks colour lightly.

His eyes brighten, thin naturally-curled lips stretching themselves wide to show a row of impeccably pearly white teeth. “Thank you. You look rather dashing yourself.”

I laugh, naturally, and reach out for him, fingers firmly gripping his arm and pulling him flush against my chest. He pushes himself up, soft warm lips brushing against my own and my skin pebbles delightfully.

“Soon,” he whispers, hands smoothing over my chest and adjusting my tie with care. He always does this thing where once he’s satisfied, he’d nod a little to himself. I wait patiently for that moment and when it does, my grin stretches further, warmth bubbling in my chest.

“What?” he asks suspiciously, when he catches me staring.

“I’m a lucky man, Kim Jongdae,” I reply honestly.

Clearly, he doesn’t see that coming, most probably expecting one of my teasing comments instead. His eyes widen, red spreading to the tips of his ears. “I know. I’m the greatest catch you’ll ever get.” He beams despite his obvious embarrassment.

“What?” I grace him with a faux puzzled expression. “I was talking about getting cake and free food and alcohol today.”

A swift punch is delivered to my stomach. He marches ahead, out the door, like a tiny angry man and even though my abdomen aches, I can’t help but chuckle at his obvious display of displeasure.

I love Kim Jongdae.

There’s a new guy in Jongdae’s life. A friend called Minseok.

My stomach roils with discomfort every time his name is mentioned. Jongdae lays on my bare chest, equally undressed and sated. The only difference is that he’s asleep, tiny puffs of air fanning over my sweaty skin with each breath he takes while my eyes refuse to shut, mind plagued by thoughts of this Minseok.

I’m not the jealous or controlling type, not by a longshot. Jongdae is free to have his own circle of friends, most of which I’ve also become acquainted with over time. However, this man just rubs me the wrong way.

It could be the way he looks at Jongdae. There’s no lust or hunger in his eyes, but something softer, gentler, passionate. And that scares me more than a bull with raging hormones.

Minseok this and Minseok that. I don’t care about him. I hate that I feel this way. Jongdae and I have made promises to each other but I cannot control him. I cannot force him to keep it. I trust him whole-heartedly. But I still fear.

I fear that I may not be enough.

My arms instinctively wrap around his frame tighter, extracting a disgruntled noise from him.
He shifts and soon, his bleary eyes are blinking up at me, corners of his lips turned down into an adorable frown. I kiss him gently, not very apologetic for waking him.

“What's wrong?” he questions, sleep thick in his voice.

“You’re heavy,” I respond, feeling a little weak with agitation. If he notices something’s off, he doesn’t comment.

Instead, he lifts a hand to my face, tracing the obvious bags beneath my eyes. “Get some sleep.” Is all he says and then settles himself again, drifting off soon after.

His feather-light touches still leave phantom tickles against my skin long after he’s fallen asleep as the morning light, hues of pale yellow and streaks of bright oranges, filter into the room.

I love Kim Jongdae.

I’m between the proverbial