A/N: This is based off of "The Book of Love" by Gavin James (link is in the title pls listen to it it's very soft). I was going for a bit of a different writing style than my usual, to match the feeling of the song. It's super short, I know, but I wanted to make up a bit for my lapse in posting By My Side (writer's block is a and I'm sorry). I hope you enjoy it!

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The summer breeze danced outside their bedroom window, rattling the panes of glass. Rain pattered against the roof of their house, a soft percussion that matched the beating of Minho’s heart against Kibum’s back. Warm lamplight filled the room, staining the walls it touched gold. The light painted shadows over Kibum’s chest from Minho’s arms that encircled him.

The rasp of a page being turned.

The clearing of Minho’s throat before he read on, his words a quiet rumble in his chest. A breath of a whisper beside his ear.

Another pause.

Another breath.

Another kiss to the shell of Kibum’s ear before Minho continued on that made Kibum melt just a little deeper into his embrace.

It had been a long day, staring at the diagrams and equations in the pages upon pages of technical jargon that gave him the headache he had until Minho walked through the door, smiling instantly when he saw Kibum.

If there were a way to put his smile in a capsule, Kibum was sure that it would cure the direst of diseases.

The page ce more and Kibum let out a sigh. It was the end of a chapter. Just his luck. Minho stuck his finger between the pages when he spoke the last word.

“Another chapter or sleep?”

Kibum turned his head, reaching up to cup his face as he kissed his cheek. “It’s up to you.”

Minho smiled and inclined his head so he could capture Kibum’s lips with his own. Tenderly stealing his breath away. When he pulled away, Kibum leaned his head back on Minho’s shoulder, closing his eyes with a smile when he heard the book being opened once more.

They often danced.

Not at clubs or galas or balls. But in grocery store aisles or in their living room or in the rain.

Whenever the mood struck, they danced. Falling into each other. Leaning on the other for support in laughter and in love.

Which, really, is the same thing, if you think about it.

They were barely touching, now. Just a twist of their fingers tangled together as Kibum slowly turned. The living room revolved around him until he faced Minho once again.

It was moments like these -- when Minho held him ever so gently, his hands wrapped around his waist and the song he was humming seemed to be vibrating out of him -- that Kibum realized how deeply his feelings for his partner ran.

Deeper than any metaphor he could think of in his love-drunk haze.

When Minho’s eyes, warm and bright and mischievous and beautiful, were on him -- watching him, drinking him in -- he could think of little else.

And he didn’t mind that one bit.

Not when Minho pulled him close.

Not when they stopped swaying together, the air tingling around them in the tranquility of it all.

Not when Minho’s hand left his waist to cup his jaw, his thumb brushing over the cut of it. Kibum couldn’t help but lean into the touch.

“That song always makes me think of you,” Minho said before he guided Kibum into a kiss.

His eyelids fluttered closed, his eyelashes brushing against his skin as he breathed Minho in. Pulling him closer. Holding him tighter. “Which...which song?” he asked once their lips parted, though still touching as Kibum’s formed his question.

“Never Gonna Give You Up,” he said, laughing when Kibum shoved him away.

Only to pull him back in a second later.

If someone had told Kibum on the day he met Minho that he would be inseparable, he actually might have believed them.

They were five, playing in the playground of the park between their homes when one of the bigger boys knocked him down. He scraped his hands on the stones, his cries going unnoticed by his mother, for the moment. Minho had crouched beside him, holding out a flat stone with a thin white stripe cutting through it. As Kibum took and inspected it, Minho dried his tears with his scarf and patted his head before he settled beside him.

They played together until Minho’s mom called him to go home.

And, to this day, Kibum still had that rock. It lay in the drawer of his nightstand, a reminder of their shared history. Which was littered with gifts of friendship, companionship, and love.

A tiny heart-shaped box that once contained chocolate now held the dried remains of the first flowers Minho had ever given him. His face so flushed that Kibum could almost feel the heat radiating off of him.

A request. To be his boyfriend.

They were only sixteen, and they were in love. And from that day, their love only grew. Blossoming into the life they now shared.

They were married when they were barely twenty-two. A secret rendezvous that only few were privy to.

Too young, some might say, to know what was right. What was proper. What they needed in life. But, in the grand scheme of things, there are worse things than following your heart, no matter how young you may be.

And now, almost six years later, their love still rang true. Unwavering and resilient, despite what the world might say and think.

Kibum turned his hand, the sunlight gleaming off his wedding ring. “What are you thinking about?” Minho asked, his voice tinged with his usual lethargy of the morning.

He reached across the table, taking Minho’s hand in his. “You,” he said softly. His thumb brushed over his knuckles before he kissed his wedding ring. “And how lucky I am to have found you.”

Minho’s fingers tightened around Kibum’s hand, a sleepy smile coloring his voice. “I’m the lucky one.”

Kibum smiled as he kissed Minho’s hand again.