It was what Jiho had playfully started calling their 'cuddle time'. It wasn‘t even that it wasn‘t a quite fitting term, it‘s just that they had been doing it for so long already and Kyung had never assigned a name to it, that it was weird for him to now have a label.
Whatever, it was cuddle time. Which didn‘t mean they were actively cuddling. They were more like a bundle of losely connected limbs and body warmth. Kyung was half lying on his back, half leaned back against the headrest of Jiho‘s bed. The owner of the bed himself lay on his stomach, partly next to him, partly on Kyung. He had one arm thrown over Kyung‘s stomach, hand holding his phone, some old movie flickering over the screen. Kyung held a novel, lazily turning pages from time to time. His hand, when not busy with pages, rested in the younger‘s hair, probably more for his own amusement, although the person assaulted hadn‘t complained so far.
They were both on edge, no doubt, even in this setting, with their bodies relaxed, their minds gave them no rest. Kyung knew that Zico was busy with a magazine, they wanted an interview and some shots of him in some artsy setting. He marked his current page and set his book down, looking at a point over Jiho’s shoulder.
“When are you having the meeting for that magazine shoot again?”
Jiho paused his video and turned his head to be able to see the older’s face.
“Tomorrow morning. Why?”
He looked concerned, eyebrows furrowing already. Kyung reached a hand out to smoothe his thumb over the appearing ridge between his brows. Jiho relaxed them at his gesture. Kyung shrugged his shoulders, “Nothing, I just didn’t remember.”
Jiho smiled at him, Kyung could feel his cheek move under his palm, hand curved on his jaw. He was watching his own hand but moved his gaze to Jiho’s eyes when he saw the smile vanish. Concerned again.
“I’m sorry.”, Jiho said earnestly.
It catapulted Kyung right out of his current daze. Now he was the one with the furrowed brows.
“ What the heck are you on about all of a sudden? What do you have to be sorry for?”
“Don’t play, Park Kyung. You’re nervous, anxious even, about the release of your solo song tomorrow.” 
Kyung felt the full attention of Jiho’s eyes on his face and averted his own eyes.
“ And what does that have to do with you being sorry?”
Jiho turned his body even more, fully facing Kyung. His phone lay abandoned, screen already dimming, soon it would lock automatically.
“ I want to say something, anything to ease your mind. But I cannot think of something that doesn’t sound like a movie line.”
Kyung grinned at him, “So you watch a movie instead?”
He meant no accusation but apparently Jiho was dead serious on this.
“ No, I mean it. I know your song will take the charts by storm, I have zero worries. But I also know that I feel the same whenever I publish a song. And no matter how many people tell you that it will do great, you can’t calm down until it’s actually happening. I just wish I could reassure you better.”
By God, Kyung hated when Jiho got this concerned with him. It made him squirm with all the soft, mushy feelings it set off in his chest. But maybe this was revenge, because Kyung himself just loved making Jiho all flustered and embarrassed with sincere words.
He leaned his head forward and motioned for a kiss, Jiho huffing an amused breath before moving so he could shift his weight onto his elbow and forearm. Leaning halfway over Kyung, he pecks him on the lips softly. He backed off again, making himself comfortable on Kyung’s stomach again.
“ Thank you. But you’re right. Laying here with you is as close to relaxed as I will get for tonight.”
Jiho nodded against his body, sending him another soft smile. They both remained silence for a while, Jiho shifted his weight again. One hand stretched towards Kyung’s bare forearm, starting random patterns. Jiho didn’t seem to particularly notice, his mind somehwere else. Kyung however watched Jiho’s finger with curious attention.
„Jiho?"
„Hmm?"
„Have you ever thought about picking up drawing again? Not even as a profession but as a hobby? You used to doodle and sketch all the time when we were younger. I mean... you even studied it. I don‘t know I just haven‘t seen you doing it in a long time."
The finger stopped, movement ceased. It was not the hold your breath, scared nervous tension, the did I say too much kind of silence. They had passed this awkward phase of relationship years ago, if they ever had it to begin with. 
It was either that Jiho had never really considered it so far and was mulling it over, or it was that as so often he had played with the idea as well but wasn't comfortable enough to speak about it loud yet. Which ever of both it was, Kyung knew the only way to get an answer was silence on his part. The finger on skin resumed his movements, painting pointless patterns on his skin. Kyung felt Jiho's low contemplating hum more than he heard it. 
„I thought about it.... but I have no real time for it, now do I?“, he mumbled against Kyung‘s shirt.
„Do you miss it?“
The finger didn‘t stop this time, telling Kyung that Jiho indeed already had had answer to this question.
„ I think I do.“
They both knew there was more to this. But they didn‘t want it here with them, all cosy and huddled in blankets, hearts warm with company. There was no space here for all the worries of idols and musicians and producers and leader and celebrities. For the fact that Jiho,between the time slaving away in the studio and meeting magazines, had no time to keep up with an old, but undead passion. For the fact that Kyung, between filming on Problematic Men and meeting magazines, barely had time to pursue his longtime dream of his own solo career. It hung around them like some chilly autumn fog. But it didn‘t matter quite that much to Kyung when Jiho slung skinny arms around him and burried his face in the soft shirt on Kyung‘s side. He slumped down a bit so he could lay comfortably, pulling another abandoned blanket up over Jiho‘s shoulders, the younger no doubt already drifting into a slumber. Kyung looked at him with half closed eyes, heart swelling all of a sudden with the b amount of love and trust he put into his best friend and the absolute certain knowledge that the other felt the same. Heaven knows what will happen to them in the future but Kyung could trust that Jiho would always have his back. Kyung heaved a small soundless sigh. All these mushy emotions tonight were exhausting. He huddled even closer to Jiho‘s warmth and finally started to drift into the embrace of sleep as well.

When Kyung wakes up, it‘s to an empty bed. While that is nothing new and nothing unexpected, it‘s still always a disappointment. He s an arm onto Jiho‘s side, but even though the bedding is rumpled, it‘s not warm anymore. He must have left a while ago already. Kyung sighs, no chance for a good morning kiss then. He gets up slowly, stretching with gusto. Stealing one of Jiho‘s random sweaters, Kyung shuffles into what counts as the kitchen. By all means it was a nice kitchen, it‘s just that Kyung is sure that he himself used that kitchen more times to cook than Jiho. The boy probably barely even knew where his pots and pans were stashed. When Kyung reaches for a cupboard, he has to hold on for a second, pushing back sweater paws, Jiho‘s clothes way too big on him. Kyung frowns goodnaturedly, Jiho sure as hell wouldn‘t pass up the chance to make a joke about Kyung‘s height in this moment. His frown lands on a lonely mug instead, sitting next to the kitchen sink. It‘s coffee, just the way Kyung liked it. Or so he assumes by the smell. He doesn‘t think Jiho would go through the trouble of making himself coffee just to let it turn cold on his kitchen counter. He would probably just grab something on his way to the interview. And no mistake, when Kyung reaches for the mug, the liquid has just the right color to tell him Jiho put enough milk and creamer in there to make it drinkable.
Beneath the mug is a small slip of paper when he picks it up to take a sip of lukewarm coffee. This stuff tastes like , why did this boy earn so much money when he wouldn’t even buy proper coffee. Kyung peeks at the paper. It is a sticky note, black ballpoint pen all over it. He can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of his throat when he makes out the picture. It depicts a small comic Kyung, lounging confidently on a throne, a giant crown placed on his head. The word ‘charts’ is written on the throne in big bold letters. Kyung glues it onto his mug and takes a selfie, sending it to Jiho without any text attached. Just him, smile hidden behind the body of the mug but eyes clearly shining at the drawing sticking to it.