Oh god, why was some annoying robot bird here to attack his head?

Wait, no, the horrible chirpy noise was his phone. He groans. Closes his eyes again. Opens them five seconds later, except the clock said way longer than that.

Among his alerts, Ryeowook's message is at the top: Open the door. Thrown into a panic, he taps on that one to see only one earlier missive in the conversation, just as brusque: I'm coming over.

, Henry has to get to the door before the sound wakes up his roommate. The doorbell in this place is loud, too, so he's got like five seconds to make that not happen.

He sprints.

And does he regret it, or at least, his stomach does. It lurches and sways more than that ship ride looked like it did. Don't think about Ryeowook stepping up to go on it twice because you were scared of it, he tells himself. Which is exactly as effective as someone telling you not to think of a purple elephant.

At any rate, he gets the front door open a crack before the demon bell can go off. Though not ready, like, at all, he doesn't take too long opening it the rest of the way, his step landing funny on his heel when he backs up to get out of the way. He grunts softly with the pain.

Hard to decide which is the worst part. The crinkling of the bags when Ryeowook sets them down and the soft thump once he takes off his shoes is somehow still so loud. The older man is scowling. He looks pretty worn out, too. And as he walks past, bypassing the visitor slippers in favor of sticking with his (tiny! tiny ankle!) socks, their shoulders bumping almost doesn't register beneath- the evidence.

The whiff of a scent coming off of Ryeowook, or trailing in his wake, is all strangewrong sharp citrus bite. "Kyuhyun said you needed hangover soup," he says flatly, with a touch of a different kind of bite altogether.

That strange scent is what he comes back to, though, the stab of citrus emanating from Ryeowook's neck or somewhere thereabouts, the faintest curl of it wafting in the air behind him as he stomps in to take charge of the meager kitchen, hurting Henry's acid-ravaged nose nearly as much as his heart, suffused with the knowledge of the deep, jagged canyon of his own inadequacy.

Plus, he could swear every cabinet and drawer in the place is being opened and closed in succession, which is the last thing his head needs.

"Cho Drunkard says you're a lightweight," Ryeowook informs him with a small wry grin as this is happening. "As if that means anything coming from him."

Opening the container of broth overpowers the last of the attention-seeking cologne, though the smell coming from it is so strong that Henry is literally taken aback. His miserable head lies down on the table after that, its cool surface a balm. He takes the twinges from the sound of Ryeowook's cooking as due penance. At least he's here, Henry thinks miserably, the playful, no, downright flirty "Cut it out!" that he heard last night echoing in his mind yet again, for good measure. At least he cares, he tells himself, said caring being in evidence from the smell of the cabbage and sprouts.

He whimpers.

To tell the truth, he doesn't want any soup. He could happily sleep the day away, given how awful he feels. With a few curses vaguely in Kyuhyun's direction first, not that he'd tell Ryeowook that. Insulting an angry man's best friend doesn't seem like the way to go here.

“Wow, your roommate really is messy, huh,” says Ryeowook in a moment of levity. By the time Henry can meet his gaze, though, it’s a second too late; any trace of playful teasing drops from his countenance. Scowling after a second and turning back to the pot, it’s as though he remembered that he’s supposed to be mad, whatever the reason for that is.

“Mm,” Henry says noncommittally, more unsure than ever of where the line is drawn.

The thing is, though... The thing is, he knows down to his toes that he can trust Ryeowook to be looking out for his best interests. That he does trust the older man to do so. So the soup is like the vitamins, is like the showering (bleh), is like the exacting skincare routine that he probably should take up but he knows he's not going to. Ryeowook reads about health stuff all the time, so, like... It's an expression of love, really. Hopefully.

He'll eat the soup. Nothing can make him like it, but he'll eat it.

All of a sudden, there's pressure and warmth; Ryeowook is his hair, and when did Henry close his eyes? "Go wait in your room," he says after a small sigh, barely above a whisper and so very close to his ear. "I'll bring you a bowl when it's done in a few minutes." The citrus scent mixes nauseatingly with the too-rich broth and the cabbage.

In a fit of courage or indulgence, Henry leans into the other man's touch for a second or two anyway before he trudges off to his bed.

-

A dip in the mattress next to him pulls him out of a light doze. He yawns, then takes a few deep breaths to try and quell the nausea still hanging around. It's with great difficulty that he gets the first spoonful down, even after a couple of sips of water; he barely registers Ryeowook closing the door, or when he seats himself onto the far end of the bed. Another deep breath lets him manage two, three, four, at which point his stomach insists that nothing else is allowed in. "Ugh."

Yet Ryeowook doesn't look offended. Oddly enough, he's staring at an empty section of wall, actually, his arms wrapped around his knees. The anger is gone as well.

“You did well yesterday,” he says as he drops his legs to lie flat, hanging over the edge, his hands folded on his lower thigh. “It’s just, in the first part...” He’s looking at Henry directly, finally, which means he must see his bleary eyes and how he’s not all there. The critique is summarily dropped. “...Never mind.”

If that was an attempt at normality, it failed. With another sigh, he looks off at the wall once more, resting back on his palms. Henry keeps sipping the glass of water the other brought to his bedside, gradually regaining his bearings.

“Is it Kyuhyun?” Ryeowook asks out of nowhere.

“What about Kyuhyun?” Henry replies, baffled. His face is all scrunched up now, but it doesn’t jar anything loose.

“You’ve been spending a lot of time together. Do you have feelings for him? Is that why it’s complicated?”

Henry’s poor hungover brain has to take a second to catch up, but catch up he does. “Oh my god, no!” As far as he’s concerned, this is coming out of left field. He gets how word traveled, though he doesn’t have time to figure out how he feels about that, but... Kyuhyun? Really?

Oh no. What’s worse is that now, Ryeowook is freezing him in place with the saddest eyes, his fingers fanned out over one bent knee. “So what is it?”

When Ryeowook looks at him like that, Henry can’t deny him anything.

Including the truth.

He looks down at his blanket, the only way he can get the words out, bunching up some in his hand to squeeze as he speaks. “Please let me talk without interruption until the end,” he starts. The sentence tripping off his tongue felt clunky in spite of the practice in his head. When no objection comes forth, though, he takes the silence as agreement. Here goes nothing, he thinks with a long, shaky breath, his shoulders and arms tense as he hunches in on himself without quite meaning to. “I’m in love with you.” He hears the sharp intake of air, sees long, long fingers tightly curl in on themselves at the edge of his vision. “But, I... don’t want to have . With anyone. I’ve- always been this way.”

No, it’s not as good as actual vocab and a better explanation. For that matter, if he had the bandwidth, he'd go into the nuances and subtypes and all that, part of him wanting to explain endlessly in a landslide of words in the hopes of being understood, if he could figure out how to swing it in a language that took him a few years to be able to order off a menu right. But as it stands, he's just sad. And scared. And so, so very tired. That’s all he’s got in him.

“I knew that even if you felt the same, you’re not like me. You would be unhappy, so I didn’t say anything. I’m sorry for burdening you with this,” he finishes in a whisper. His voice has run out. The trembling fists in his periphery have moved farther apart after a sniffle. Cautiously, carefulslowterrified, his eyes stinging, he dares to look up, not knowing what he’ll find.

He’s afraid, but he owes at least that much - owes an honest answer, however inartfully it’s phrased. Ready to give up what’s left of his tattered heart if, by some miracle, it’s still wanted.

What surprised him was being nearly knocked over backwards. Tears well up in Ryeowook's eyes for a second before he bodily throws himself at Henry, flinging his arms around Henry's neck, his tear-tinged words spilling out unheeding of his sudden monopolizing of the younger man’s lap. (Not that Henry would be complaining, even if he had his wits about him.)

"I thought you didn't want me!" Ryeowook cries, wrapping him up in a fierce embrace, holding tight like it's his port in a storm. "Sometimes, I was sure I was the only one you didn't want..." He admits more quietly. A loud swallow follows, shaky breaths chasing it.

It's- Heartbreak, too, wasn’t one-sided here.

"No, it's not like that at all!" Henry insists, with no small amount of desperation. How to explain? The adrenaline doesn’t make him any less foggy.

Ryeowook just sighs, the gust of air tickling his ear, murmuring an “Okay.” That one word is enough to allow Henry’s stomach to unclench. “It’s okay.”

Then Ryeowook curses. "You're such an idiot. Where did you get the idea that I wasn't madly in love with you? Huh?" He sniffles; Henry only hugs him tighter, laughing because putting it like that is so him. His insides are too wobbly to say anything yet, after hearing that. "Where could you learn such a ridiculous thing?"

The fabric of Ryeowook’s shirt is scratchy against the underside of his stubbled chin, grounding him. He rubs his chin back and forth over it a couple of times. “You’re unfair,” Henry tells him. “You play hard to get.” Ryeowook’s bark of laughter sends his heart soaring.

“You’re joking, right?” This hug will never end, which is not a problem in the least. “Even Donghae was being obnoxious about it, telling me every little thing each time his mom said she saw you and talked to you, or after he came back from using your studio.”

"Really?" Henry’s surprised to hear that that nonsense went both ways. "Kyuhyun wouldn't stop bothering me about everything you did." Whoops, so much for the whole don’t insult his best friend business.

“They're all meddling s," Ryeowook concludes, not that he sounds all that upset about it at the moment. Phew. They continue holding each other for long seconds of peace; yet all too soon, the fear creeps back in.

Oh. Right. He sinks back down, plummeting into the earth. Engulfed by the encore of citrus burning his nose and his mouth and his lungs. A cold chill slithers down his spine and into his fingertips. He finds himself bodily pushing Ryeowook away. His head is spinning. No, he can't have this! It'll only be destroyed...

It hurts it hurts it hurts.

"You don't understand!" He desperately tries to tell the other. "I can't... I can't take it if you go and sleep with strangers either. I want to be okay with it so badly, but I can't bear it, I'm sorry, I can't!" He looks away; his nails dig into his opposite arm, his other hand lying limp on the pale blue sheet.

"...What?" It’s hard to tell if the droop of Ryeowook’s brow and the tightening of the corners of his mouth stems solely from hurt or more from confusion, but it sure comes off as both anyway. Destruction now is better than destruction later, it has to be, or all his courage was for nothing.

"I tried really hard to think about it a lot to become someone who's okay with it, but I'm not." For a long moment, silence reigns between them.

This time, Ryeowook favors him with an indulgent smile instead. He scoffs, his soft smile and his hand resting on Henry's knee throughout making the sound come off as more fond than anything else. "Of course I'm not going to do that if we're dating," he states emphatically, tinged with affection in the lilt of his voice, in the gentle rise of his eyebrows at the end, in the upper half of his body leaning just that little bit towards him. He rubs that same knee, steady, reassuring.

He tries, he's trying, but...

"Don’t tell me you don’t have a lot. I know you do.” Henry can’t help how glum he sounds about the whole matter. “Being with me will make you unhappy," he contends piteously. He sniffles and wastes no time hating himself for it.

"It won't, I swear. I like , but I don’t need it." Ryeowook says with a shrug and a cute little quirk of his head. But then, he looks thoughtful. Despite the assurances in everything that's been said up to this point, Henry's breathing quickens, growing sharp with apprehension. "You said strangers are a problem for you," Ryeowook intones slowly, looking away for a second, as though he’s collecting his next words, his tongue moistening his lips. "Should I stop... sleeping with Sungmin-hyung as well?"

Huh. That... Huh.

His breathing thankfully evening out upon realizing that it doesn’t seem to be a gotcha or oblique hint, Henry tries really hard to take a second to ponder. The man sitting opposite him on his bed looks unattached to the outcome; that more than anything is why he races ahead. "No," he answers before he's had a chance to fully think it through. "Actually, it would be good for you to keep sleeping with him," he continues, realizing it's true as he says it. Despite all the blatant flirting, Sungmin hasn't once made a play for Ryeowook's affections. They'd all know if that happened.

Actually, it's the perfect solution. Absolutely perfect, and it presented itself to him on a silver platter. No one has to be unhappy this way. He bounces a little, overjoyed as soon as he figured that out.

"Okay," Ryeowook says, accepting through his mild surprise, amusement playing on his mouth, along the rise and fall of his shoulders. "I've got one more question." He scoots closer, moving directly from holding Henry's knee to holding his hand.

"What's that?" Henry asks cautiously. He can feel his heart fluttering at the sight of the other's soft, slowly growing smile, his expression just as nervous as Henry feels.

"Can I kiss you?" Just a hint of humor in the words, but beneath that, a subtle trace of something like a plea, nervous anticipation condensed into one little lip bite while waiting, and it's too much, too perfect.

Hope surges up in him. One sweet taste of it, only to crash back down: Just before Henry can answer, suddenly, what had to be every show and movie from his adolescence, interspersed with his own unfortunate experiences, bombarded his mind. He could cry with frustration, that there’s another obstacle, another place to be a horrible disappointment to someone he loves.

But he’s hooked too far in already; he just knows that if their lips meet for the merest fraction of a second, he won’t survive his heart being ripped out of his chest right after.

That, he can’t do again.

Better that it all implodes now with his words rather than months down the line, with a hand blithely making its way up his thigh, then the fight after he shrinks back-

“No tongue,” he blurts out, giving the other a stern look normally reserved for more playful times, trying to lighten the moment by reflex. Not eloquent, possibly the not-quite-right words, but his feint at lightheartedness...

It works too well.

Ryeowook's head drops nearly to his chest, his shoulders quaking with his howling amusement. "Bwahahaha! How romantic!" He shrieks sarcastically between two cresting waves of laughter. Letting out a final snort and satisfied "ah" when he comes back up, he wipes at his eyes with the back of his hand.

Don’t tell me this really is where it all falls apart. Admittedly, Henry suspects there’s something along the way here that was completely irrational, but he’s so distressed by the idea that the thought comes out before he could stop it. “Do you not believe me?”

“What? No, I wasn’t about to do that, that’s all.” Ryeowook clicks his tongue. “You really are innocent.” To his credit, upon noticing how the younger nonetheless held himself not entirely unlike a cornered animal right in front of him, Ryeowook drops most of his teasing manner when assuring him, "I got it. Don't worry." His half-smile loses any remaining edge, turning to kindness, the transformation better than any painting. "I don't need that."

...Henry is mortified now. , I messed up one of those unspoken rules again, didn’t I. Imagining it going the other way in a flash- It'd be way worse to be grossed out by our first kiss, right? I'd get dumped on the spot. No contest. But all he manages to say is, “Sorry, hyung. I’m not trying to-“ He mumbles the last bit. “-be difficult...”

"Don’t worry about it. I just...” Ryeowook curls in on himself a bit, radiating shyness, his gaze turned away down and to the side, his lovely smile gone self-conscious but every word floating on a current of unmistakable affection, “...want things to be good for you.” He coughs, then clears his throat. “If stuff isn’t for you, that’s not a big deal to me.”

“Even something so-“ Henry swallows hard. “-small?” Not that it feels small, the looming shadow of his disgust at the very notion of this one particular act that a whole lot of people do willingly and happily. This unclassed thing, insisted to not be , but not quite not , and it makes no sense beyond how sure he is that his body groups it with all the other stuff he recoils from if it involves him in it.

He has no desire to repeat the hard lesson that if love can’t overcome that, at least not for him, then nothing can. The itch to run builds in him.

Full of fond exasperation, Ryeowook snaps him out of it with a sharp, “Have you heard a single word I said?”

“Sorry,” Henry mumbles again.

“None of that matters to me. Really.” Then Ryeowook grins, his teeth peeking out alongside a huff of an almost-laugh. One hand wraps around Henry’s wrist, thumbing at his pulse. “I don’t need that. Oh kay?” He sounds out mockingly slowly while his cheeks grow rounder with his mirth. He seems... well, genuinely happy when he says, “I have you. That’s plenty for me.”

His wayward fingers brush Henry’s bangs back, soothing him. With the way the other was looking at him, touching him so tenderly, Henry could believe, for now at least, that Ryeowook wants him to have what he wants, to be happy, no matter that it takes a form that's unusual. Hell, the man in question has confided that he that he has no desire to get married, which isn't the easiest thing to realize or admit around here.

So touched that he can’t say a single word, his throat too tight with emotion, Henry’s reduced to pleading with his eyes, hoping the other man will read the next step from there, the way he has so many times before.

Ryeowook softens further still before him, his pupils nearly disappearing in the process. “You don’t need to be scared. I mean it, okay? You’re all I need,” he asserts, b with confidence. Their knees are touching now. Then he playfully adds, “And one kiss.”

“If that’s the case...” Cheeks almost hurting with his own beaming answering better than any words could, Henry matches his playfulness when he concedes, “One’s a good start.”

He tries to look self-assured. Inside, he’s nervous and wanting; his love’s sincerity settles into his limbs alongside the muted light flowing in around the blinds, bathing in its glow the echo of such sweetness he thought he could never have again, showing him what feels like a dream coming towards him.

“Yes, sir,” Ryeowook murmurs, his good cheer unrelenting, incredibly - subsumed, in turn, only by his exceedingly gentle gaze of adoration. Time slows to a crawl. He runs his thumb along Henry’s jawline, sweeping slow arcs over his cheek, meeting his jaw at the bottom of its path, the side of his nose at the top, staying short of his eye on its meandering stroll. Their gazes lock onto each other in a way that feels inescapable. That same reverent touch is soon nestling the younger man’s chin in the valley between his thumb and forefinger, fingertips curled under, at once supporting him and asking him to stay.

Then the distance between them disappears.

Their first ever kiss is soft, sosoft, his bottom lip held gently between both of Ryeowook's, his top one pressed against the contrast of soft and the faintest hint of stubble. No more citrus assailed his senses, only the remnant of some sweet fruity scent wafting into his perception. His hands came to rest on Ryeowook's waist. He enjoyed the particular way the shape fit into his hands, though he couldn't describe it for the life of him. Not a hint of pushiness, nor could he tell if the trembling was his own, but he could cry all the same, if he wasn't happier than he thought was possible for him.

And luckier than anyone had a right to be.

That same feeling of peace from holding his beloved close all those months ago once again washes over him, flowing out in a soft sigh more besotted than a thousand novels could describe.

In the no time at all of an eternity, chased by lingering for long moments, it’s over. Ryeowook presses their foreheads together; the threat of tears shines in his eyes, he looks so overjoyed. , he's so damn strikingly beautiful that it leaves Henry utterly speechless before him.

"Was that okay?" Ryeowook asks, timid for the first time since he's arrived.

"Yeah," Henry breathes. "It was perfect." He dares to Ryeowook's hair, over his shoulders, cupping the back of his head and scritching his scalp, even, the other man's body releasing some of its tension in one faint pleased-sounding exhale. His eyes fall closed.

"Then..." After a second, Ryeowook blinks, pulls his gaze to his lap bashfully. "Can I do it again?"

"Please," Henry can't help but answer. Ask. Beg. He doesn't care which it comes off as; he has no time to try, reveling in the joy of their second soft kiss sweeping him away. The thought of more of this, as much as he could possibly want, fills him with a fresh wave of giddy affection. He tries really hard not to break it with a smile, but to no avail: he breaks out in uncontrollable giggles, rejoicing in this precious gift he’s been bestowed. Emboldened, however, the third kiss is his doing, just as wonderful as the last one.

Then he feels woozy.

Wait, that’s because the third one stopped and turned into the fourth one, Ryeowook outright tossing himself into Henry's lap, his arms recklessly flung around to enwrap Henry's shoulders. He presses a little harder than the other times, and Henry finds that a frisson of fear passes nearly unnoticed beneath the enraptured earthquake of his pounding heart against his ribcage.

It nonetheless ends almost too soon, an impish Ryeowook pulling back just far enough for the mischief glittering in his eyes to make itself known to his target, too fleeting to prepare.

Whatever it is that he does, exactly, he succeeds in knocking Henry over backwards this time. They laugh and laugh and rearrange their bodies until Ryeowook's head rests on Henry's chest with a content sigh, the length of him sprawled comfortably in the space he occupies between Henry's legs. I like how you fit with me, he thinks. Or maybe says under his breath, he’s not sure. His darling is slight, easy to wrap up in his arms and take with him, should he find the strength.

He reaches into the sleeves of Ryeowook's t-shirt, his fingertips smoothing along the winding indents of the stretch marks along the uppermost part of Ryeowook's arms that he typically hides, Henry’s hands and forearms coming to rest on the soft expanse of his love’s back, crossed over each other. Relaxing, holding him without a care in the world.

He briefly considers tickling the older man's exposed sides, but on second thought, potential flailing legs and elbows near his junk isn't worth the risk.

Instead, he chuckles to himself, murmurs a quick "I love you". He hears the same back and doesn't need anything else in the whole wide world.

Reality intrudes into their interlude via a thump heard through the wall. He tilts his head to hear better for a couple of seconds. Nothing. He's relieved that the occupant of the other bedroom is a deep sleeper, and more relieved that the two of them, he and the wonderful man he’s holding in his arms, can work it out after all, when it had seemed insurmountable not so very long ago.

This definitely calls for pancakes. And after that, a nap.

-

They couldn’t stop smiling at each other. Not when Henry was trying to quietly make pancakes, certainly not after they snuck said pancakes into his room, not even when they fell asleep spooning, empty plates abandoned on his desk.

He accidentally squeezes Ryeowook’s middle tighter when the alarm he set before their nap goes off. A disgruntled noise comes from the other man, and, , Henry agrees with that. He really doesn’t wanna let go, but Ryeowook’s gotta leave now to account for traffic and makeup and radio prep. He grumbles a bit anyway, one fingertip over the shell of Ryeowook’s ear, who squeezes his leg, then nudges him until he gets the hint and rolls over to let him out of his hold so he can get out of bed.

On his way out, Ryeowook presses his body over Henry’s briefly, nuzzling into his neck and placing a peck there before making it the rest of the way to stand beside the bed. He yawns and stretches, smoothing his hair down immediately after. “I don’t wanna go,” he yawns out, taking Henry’s hand in a loose grip. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Henry yawns back at him. “I’ve got lots of schedules coming up anyway.” Making himself sit up, he scrubs his hand over his face, trying hard to get his eyes to stay open. Also, his throat burns a little. He sniffs hard. “And we’ll see each other soon.”

“But not alone,” Ryeowook whines while he smoothes any wrinkles out of his clothes. “I’m gonna miss you already,” he says too cutely. How is one measly heart supposed to handle such overload?

Sufficient impetus provided, Henry cajoles his legs to stand up for the sole purpose of getting one last hug in. Still exhausted, he leans on Ryeowook a little bit on the process. “We’ll work it out,” he murmurs. “Love you.”

With a content sigh, Ryeowook tells him, “Love you too.” Then he pats Henry on the back and releases him. “Okay, come on, I gotta go.”

Once it’s impossible to avoid any longer, Henry leads Ryeowook out to the front door. The older is polite but brief on his way out, wrestling his shoes on while he talks; Henry can’t deny that it’s hard to see him go.

But then he thinks, We’re dating now. Hell yeah! Everything’s great! And doesn’t that cheer him right up!

Later, he tells his roommate in a way he hopes isn’t suspicious, “We were working on music stuff and fell asleep for a bit. Sorry, I didn’t wake you up earlier, did I?”, all the while struggling to keep a giant goofy grin off his face.

-

It would be days before they caught a break at the same time, but he made it happen.

Occasionally, his scalp feels the ghost of bleaching burn, so he’s not getting all the scritches he’d like. The gentle petting is just as nice, though, as though the older man knows without having been told. He likes that a lot.

The A/C has cooled him back down from the trip up to this floor, leaving him able to relax again without the constant buzz of a sheen of sweat layered on top of his skin. They’ve ambled out to where the living room blends into the dining room, loosely holding hands, content to bask in each other’s presence without pressure.

Ryeowook hums. “Getting a bit hungry. You?”

“Mm,” Henry replies, yawning and dropping himself onto one of the chairs. His bare calves press up against the legs, and he enjoys the cold while Ryeowook plops down next to him, setting his phone down on the table.

Right on cue, it buzzes obnoxiously.

Ryeowook opens it and frowns. “This is why I put the alert back on,” he grumbles. “Kyuhyun started bothering me to make lunch when you’d just gotten here.”

“Ah, seriously?” Now Henry’s frowning too, moreso in sympathy.

“I’ve only had the place to myself for what, five minutes?” Ryeowook whines. “And you know if I turn him down, he’s going to come here anyway. They hardly keep snacks around for a day before they eat them on the other floor, you know?”

“Right, it’s always empty.” It does kinda . Henry pouts for good measure. Ryeowook reaches over to his chin between thumb and forefinger, holding with the second knuckle to squeeze affectionately, then drops his hand onto the surface of the table.

“The auntie’s out of town for a couple of days, too...”

“I see. So...” He hasn’t had the time or energy to ask until now, but since it’s gonna come up literally right now anyway, might as well. “Does he know that we’re dating?” Nearly a week later, it still brings an irrepressible smile to his face just saying the words, but he quickly tamps it down, not wanting to give the wrong impression.

Ryeowook says with a forced-sounding casual tone that he hadn’t said anything. “Not yet, since you and I haven’t discussed that.” Probably trying to make him comfortable? Not sure.

But either way, that’s not the point right now. “We can figure all that out later. The point is,” Henry gestures with one spread-open hand flung out diagonally from himself out into the open air, “I wanna give him some grief for meddling. All you have to do is hide and let me do the talking,” he finishes with a wicked grin.

Shoulders coming up, Ryeowook snickers. He’s so clearly excited about the prospect. “Ohhh! Sure thing. I’m curious now.” That’s definitely the click of the keypad lock he hears. Whatever Henry expected Ryeowook to do, though, it wasn’t hiding under the table! What the ? Oh, but sitting down’ll be more melodramatic. He’ll look more pensive, or something. He’s going with it. Or, staying with it, ‘cause he’s already sitting down. They were about to have lunch and get some good snuggles in after until Kyuhyun decided to intrude. The day before, Ryeowook had even gone to the trouble of putting up special curtains to block more of the heat from coming into his room, which was the sweetest ing thing, okay?!

Oh, right. Anyway.

Ironically, perhaps, Henry has to keep a straight face right now. While lost in his thoughts, he was staring off into space, down at the table. Perfect.

The high thwap of each heavy step of the house slippers rings out unimpeded in the silence, giving him just enough time to put on his serious face.

“It’s really quiet,” Kyuhyun says from off to the side of the table. “Where’d Ryeonggu go? I saw that he read my message.”

Henry restrains his voice, says evenly, “There’s a reason you don’t see him.” The less he has to outright lie, the easier it is to act. He solemnly stares directly ahead, his elbows resting on the table, forearms crossed and hanging partway over the edge. He looks down and bites his lip for effect.

“Don’t tell me you messed it up again,” Kyuhyun drawls, followed by an exasperated sigh. He otherwise sounds unbothered. Henry looks at him head on.

“He said,” and he lets his voice crack a little, maintaining the most difficult eye contact of his goddamn life, and that includes swearing up and down to his mom that he didn’t go near that vase, “that my feelings for you were clear.”

Kyuhyun replies with nothing but a flat “What.”

(He’s kiiiiiinda winging it, but, not gonna let that stop him. After all, Kyuhyun already looks like he’s got half a mind to turn around and walk out the door without another word. Incredible.) Determined to pile it on, Henry puts on his best drama voice, quiet and anguished, folding his hands on the table and looking back down at them. “What should I do?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Kyuhyun's mouth hanging open in a horrified grimace tells him quite clearly what he thinks of the entire notion. "You- Rea- You're joking."

Correction: this time, keeping his expression a serious one when he looks Kyuhyun in the eye is the hardest thing Henry has ever done. "Do I look like I'm joking?"

Tucked away out of view, Ryeowook shakes with silent laughter against his shins, challenging Henry's acting all the more.

“So what does that mean?” Kyuhyun demands.

“I don't know,” Henry fires back. “Are you going to take responsibility?” He asks in a tight voice. Brilliant touch right there, if he does say so himself. He’s even gotten Kyuhyun leaning back like he really is one wrong move away from bolting, eyes wide and brow furrowed.

“What are you talking about? Are you crazy?!” Kyuhyun nearly yells.

“I told you that you alone were in my heart.” Henry grips the corner of the table closest to Kyuhyun, allowing his torso to become perilously overbalanced in that direction. With any luck, he won’t notice. “You're not going to take care of me? After all the time we've spent together happily...” He knows he's really piling on the melodramatics with the sorrowful, longing tone, his forehead wrinkling with hurt (he’s drawing on being left out of an ice cream run, practically the same expression, easy-peasy). But god, Kyuhyun's terrified face is so ing worth it!

The high bursts of Ryeowook's distinctive laughter breaks the spell. Perfect timing, too, because who knows how much longer Henry could keep going without cracking up himself.

“Ugh, what the hell is wrong with you,” Kyuhyun not-asks, striding past them to grab some chips out of the cabinet.

“Your face!” What little composure Henry had built up breaks on those words. On the other side of the table, one of the chairs screeches being pushed back along the floor, Ryeowook popping out, laughing almost as loudly as Henry has started to. “Ah, you were too meddlesome, hyung,” he playfully admonishes Kyuhyun while Ryeowook’s unending laughter has the older man too weak to hold his head up, peals of it absorbed by the wood of the table, half muffled by his forearms supporting his forehead. “Don't be-“ Henry snickers. “Don’t be so surprised.”

“See if I help you again,” Kyuhyun says through a mouthful of chips. “You’re on your own-“ crunch crunch “-with any more solo promotions.” Crunch crunch crunch.

That just gets Henry laughing again. Ryeowook also ignores him and instead goes around to drape his arms over Henry's neck and torso. Humming happily, Henry turns his head to give him a quick kiss, triumphant and self-satisfied, but they both hold it longer because they're giggling into each other's mouths.

Kyuhyun groans loudly, punching his arm. Half-heartedly, he tries to retaliate, but he's in the middle of something more important, so it's not very effective. Behind them, the sound of the fridge door opening comes along with some indistinct complaining he’s not paying attention to, but who cares?

“What does my handsome sweetie want to eat? Hmm?” Ryeowook coos, nuzzling the tips of their noses together in slow side-to-side sweeps, his face all scrunched up in adoration. Still, a sly sparkle in his eyes tells that it might be the tiniest bit over the top on purpose.

do I love this man, Henry can’t help but think. He and his boyfriend, the absolute cutest boyfriend in the world, are engrossed in the very important task of staring into each other's eyes, neither able to contain their joy. Everything around them falls away. Then Ryeowook brushes Henry’s hair back, rubbing his temples and massaging his neck. When he starts up that latter one, Henry lets his eyes fall half closed, blinking slowly, taking his time thinking over what sounds good to eat at the moment.

“Gross. I’m right here,” Kyuhyun pointedly reminds them. “You’ve been together for two seconds and I already hate it.”

Truly, Henry has no idea how this unromantic jerk got Donghae to date him.

Ryeowook barely turns his head thirty degrees, if that, and snippily fires back at him, “Quiet. I wasn’t talking to you.”

“I regret helping you two,” Kyuhyun says, his words somewhat broken up by eating whatever he nabbed out of the fridge. Maybe that tupperware of cut-up fruit. “I didn't think it'd mean no lunch. So, actually, I changed my mind. This was a terrible idea and you should break up.”

This time, Ryeowook ignores him in favor of squishing Henry's cheeks together and gracing him with a nice quick peck. In the background, Kyuhyun makes retching sounds in retaliation.

But hey, it proves that living well really is the best revenge.