Here they are. In the same tiny room, no one else around, because it’s time. There’s no more running away from it.

The first thing that broke through the long nothing didn’t even make sense. Ryeowook’s wide shirt collar exposed his clavicle, and all Henry could think was that he wanted to rub his freshly-shaven face along the trail of smooth-looking skin, feel it with that pleasant sensitivity that always fades too quickly. Not that he has that option right now.

But then, it was easier to notice that than to reckon with Ryeowook’s frankly understandable rage, plainly written all over his face, in his tightly crossed arms, in the heavy, audible gale of his breathing.

Because he has every right.

“This is a ty way to break up with me,” Ryeowook snarls. Admirable, no matter how awful it feels, that the other man put it out there with no qualms. Yet Henry finds himself furiously shaking his head. Though he is no longer outside of himself, he moves as if that’s still the case, surprised by his own actions.

“The truth is, I don’t... I don’t want to break up,” he admits without meaning to - speaking the too-few too-honest words as though they were pried out of the very depths of his being. Coward, he flings at himself in the confines of his own mind.

The remainder of what he thought, or maybe hoped, could remain locked away safely inside him is miniscule by comparison, and shrinking rapidly. He hates so much that he can’t keep anything important from the man across from him. Why didn’t he just... go through with it? Get it over with?

Strand himself without the love he’d grown so used to being there to carry him through, no matter that the other would so clearly be better off being free to find-

No! His entire self screams on the inside.

. He despises the very notion so much that he can’t finish his thought. He was kidding himself if he thought for a second that he wasn’t still desperately in love with Ryeowook, that he had done anything but merely paper over the unbearable longing to be the center of his world, the way he used to feel he was. Co-workers? Yeah, right. You’re not fooling anyone.

Not that any love is all that recognizable at the moment, as much as Henry suspects that Ryeowook’s palpable fury is rooted in it all the same.

“Then what the hell do you think you’re doing?! You've been pushing me away for over a month!" Ryeowook yells.

Henry flinches, takes a step backward. With a loud, ragged sigh, Ryeowook drops himself down onto his bed. The void between them grows. Into its hollow quiet, Henry knows he’s turning the agonizing future his terror has envisioned into reality with his next words. "It's going to happen whether or not I want it to."

Ryeowook tips his head back, running one elegant hand up over his nose, his eyes, his forehead, through his hair. He visibly swallows, audibly takes a deep breath, though it doesn't leave him looking much less angry than before. "What are you talking about?" He grits out.

"I'm saying, you're not just going to, to suddenly... be okay with never having again. How long will it take? Four months? Six? A year? I don't know." Looking off to the side, Henry shoves his hands into his pockets, thumbs and all. "But I know I can't change this about myself. I don't know when you'll understand that this is forever," he bites his bottom lip hard, "but that day will come. Then what happens?"

"You're the only one allowed to know yourself?" Ryeowook's rage has turned ice cold. "That's what you're saying."

"What I'm saying," Henry fires back, a little angry as well, but mostly despairing, "is that you've never done this before."

"That's right. I haven't. Doesn't mean I don't know what I'm talking about! Look at me," Ryeowook commands.

So Henry does, their gazes locked together as the other man slowly stands up, taking the few steps between them to close the distance. Warmth from his hands settling on each shoulder seeps through. Henry feels himself shaking, in a distant sort of way, but he stands firm.

"I didn't start this not knowing the situation, so it's your turn to trust me. If it turns out I'm wrong," Ryeowook tells him, precisely enunciating every syllable, his hands tightening around Henry's shoulders as though to make him listen, regardless that the younger is riveted no matter how badly he wants to hide from all this, "I will talk to you." Could also be that Ryeowook is afraid he’s going to bolt, upon closer inspection.

Not an entirely unfair assessment. Henry nods slowly to show that he's listening, proof that he is staying here to give what he owes.

"If I have to, I'll introduce you to every guy I sleep with, should it come to that," Ryeowook continues, serious and genuine, determined fire lighting up his eyes. His forehead shows the slightest wrinkle of tension, his mouth set in a firm line. "Do not doubt that it will be painfully awkward. But I'll do it, if that's what it takes. None of them will be strangers anymore, that way."

Henry’s concentration is wavering. He feels lightheaded. "Hyung..." The weak plaster holding him together cracks.

"Oh, I'm not done." As if that was ever in question. "If it turns out I'm wrong, that I do need that, you'll have to do your part too." His gaze is so intense that it consumes all of the younger man’s remaining focus, no room left to question the meaning of those words. "You have to confront your fear."

In a fraction of a second, barely more time than it takes for sound to travel from mouth to ear, the panic sets in. "What d-do you mean?" More lightheaded. More cracks.

"I mean, why are you afraid of me having with other men if you don't want to?" It’s no rhetorical question. Ryeowook stares him down for the answer.

"Because..." Oh god, oh no, Henry can feel his bottom lip wobbling. "Because relationships like ours almost never work out." , he said it, there’s no taking it back-

"Why?" Ryeowook questions him remorselessly. A single word, sharpened to a fine point.

"The one who wants feels unloved because they don't have it, or so unattractive that they decide to leave," he's on a roll of terrible and can't seem to stop it, "a-and people who do have , they fa-fall in love that way all the time." He breaks out of Ryeowook's hold, steps back to wipe his eyes with the back of his hand. “Wondering if this is the end every time... it hurts too much! My heart can't bear it..." The plaster is in pieces on the ground, and there’s no telling whether he can be rebuilt.

"...Ah. You were hurt in the past."

Henry doesn’t dispute it. The silence answers for him.

Then Ryeowook's brow furrows and he frowns in sympathy. "I understand. Being hurt like that can leave a deep wound in your heart." He pushes Henry's bangs back, the first gentle touch to pass between them since long before he closed the door to his room. This small place, with a custom insulating curtain hanging over the window, a book with the jacket worn from passing it back and forth between them so many times sticking out of the third shelf on the bookshelf against the wall, a mostly-used post-it pad next to it neighboring the silly pen used to pass notes about it inside the pages, a cute decorative box with a bunny on the front filled with whichever snacks they could agree on.

Henry swallows hard. He's on the verge of something, though he has no way to know what it may end up being.

Long seconds later, Ryeowook speaks the silence away. "But... Please understand me as well." He clasps both their hands together; Henry lets him. He's scared, but there really is something keeping him here, and he just has to find out what it is. Then Ryeowook says, "I'm not the person who hurt you." The older man adds more quietly, "I wouldn't do that to you. What I want... is to take care of you and make you happy. You know that, right? So, will you trust me?"

Then, he lets go and steps back. Literal and figurative space.

Henry can’t look at him, eyes fixed upon the floor. Socks with stylized stars against a black backdrop in his peripheral vision. “But... I just- Do you really know what it is you’re agreeing to? Is it really worth it? How difficult-“

It surprises him so much when Ryeowook snorts that it tears him away from his inspection of the carpet. “You've only liked three people. Is it so hard to imagine that you're important enough to mean... more than all that other stuff? That I-"

"Two," Henry interrupts. Usually, he can find some way to avoid himself cutting in like that, a small motion or agreeing sound, but the thought didn't occur to him. Because this is too important.

"...Oh." Ryeowook ducks his head and blushes prettily at that, the faintest sheen of pink hiding on his smooth cheeks. Then he shakes his head. "No, wait, I was making a point."

“Sorry.” Henry shrinks back.

"I told you it didn't matter." When Ryeowook starts, he sounds angry, but by the end, it's more desperate. "Why didn't you believe me?"

Though Henry starts to apologize again, it dies on his lips halfway through. "It couldn't be true," he answers instead. "No one would do that for me. Not without some kind of backup. That's what I thought..."

“Idiot.” Ryeowook's looking exasperated, and Henry would call it done with him except that it kind of looks... fond, too. "You've never been good at picking up on these things without being told." Henry is ready to take offense, but the barest hint of a smile has brought Ryeowook's well of adoration to the surface. That, he couldn’t misread. " isn't that important to me." God, Ryeowook's going right up to him to cradle Henry's face in his hands now, and it's too much all at once. "You are. You get it now? Huh?" He emphasizes by squishing his face.

“Ah guess sho.” The words come out distorted by the aforementioned squishing. Even he’s unimpressed with himself. Wow, really? That’s all I’ve got? His eyes feel funny, though. Kinda stinging?

"I've done ten times more work,” another squish, “than I have for all the other guys I've dated combined, I swear. So I'm calling bull on whatever messed-up thoughts you might have that you're not worth it.”

Now there’s a painful bullseye. To add to his humiliation, Henry can feel his lower lip trembling harder. "Pretty sure it's a hundred times more," he tries to joke, but instead of laughing, all that happens is that he starts crying for real, the threat of tears that bubbled up during the speech that was somehow angry and sweet and touching all at once following through with a vengeance.

Before was only a trickle compared to the floodgates that open this time around. Every emotion he’s dammed up comes out in a deluge that’s bound to knock him flat on the ground. His knees shake perilously.

Somehow, it finally gets through to him.

All this time, he couldn't hear what Ryeowook was saying over the roar of fear. Echoes of pain took the words and their meanings and twisted them beyond recognition. He can see that now. Then he can't see very well at all, through the tears that just won’t stop welling up in his eyes no matter how many times he blinks them away.

He almost lost this. He almost broke this, them, the safety he's been offered so freely as if there was no question of it. And from someone he- he chokes on the thought, on the tears, ashamed to put words to it... From someone who, though he loves him, he’d previously believed, deep down, could never understand.

This right here? Is understanding, however imperfect, or incomplete. (Love, in the truest sense.)

Ryeowook’s thumbs wipe through the wet trails on the younger’s cheeks so gently that it almost doesn’t register. "You get it now, right? I don't care about our differences. I love you.” He drops to grasp fistfuls of Henry’s shirt. “Don't you- see what that means to me?" Desperate once more, something like begging, from a man whose actual first language is telling people what to do, with a sniffle half-hidden behind his hand hastily wiping at his eyes.

Oh. Henry deflates instantly at the sight.

"I think so," he admits. "Anything, right?" A disbelieving chuckle slips out of his mouth, sounding pathetic and scraped raw even to his own ears. "You tell everyone else to not let their boyfriends tell them what to do- and I'm not- I’m not going to do that. You're the boss here," he jokes.

One curled hand resting absently on his own cheek, Ryeowook looks at him with a wordless plea shining from his eyes, though Henry doesn't know for what. He goes on anyway. "But you'd do just about anything, right? Once you-" He pauses to curse; it's hard to get his thoughts out in normal times, and with Ryeowook’s touch now lost to him, fingers clenching into a tense fist he holds to his chest, right over his heart... Henry can feel that mystery something so close to slipping away that it tugs unpleasantly on his insides, leaving him just as tense as the other man increasingly appears. "Once you decide someone's yours, that's it for you. There's no going back."

"...Yeah," Ryeowook croaks, his hand falling open. Henry watches its palm-down path over Ryeowook's collarbone, his neck, rubbing up and down over the freshly-trimmed expanse. The strange urge it brings forth, to run his fingers over the rough terrain, to fix the other’s collar so that both sides lay even, makes no sense except as a drive towards closeness.

To be let in once more.

Henry curses again.

Once Ryeowook's hands wrap around his, coaxing each finger to release its tension, Henry becomes aware how tightly he'd curled his own hands into fists, mostly from the faint ache where his nails dug into his palms. He blinks away some more of the tears; he finds them mirrored in his beloved's gaze, fastened on him so tenderly that he can't stand it.

How do you tell someone offering everything you'd never dared to hope for that you couldn't possibly deserve it? Having squandered it so thoughtlessly...

It leaves him sick to his stomach. "I'm sorry," he forces out of his scratchy throat. Didn't expect that to hurt, too. "I’m so sorry. I never thought..." He doesn't know what he's saying. If the words to shape anything resembling a coherent sentence out of the fragmented junkyard he feels, the remains of his torn-up insides littered in piles strewn across the ground, exist in any language he knows, they're out of his reach.

Still, Ryeowook looks at him with compassion, any visible trace of what hard feelings may have remained having melted away sometime during the unseen blur through all that crying. "It’s been really difficult for you," he says at last.

"Yeah..." Because there's nothing else to say. Truth is all that's left.

Ryeowook moves to the side. He turns the chair under his desk to face him, dropping onto it carelessly. Its supporting column squeaks. He looks so tired. After he crosses his legs, his hands join over one knee; that's where his gaze stays pointed. "I know you're different than me." Instantly, he holds up one hand, clearly warding off any argument or protest. "I'm not saying this to fight.” He drops it just as quickly, folding his hands again. “There... are terms I don't quite understand, but I did try to look. And, I know that..." One deep breath visibly inflates and deflates his chest before he seems ready to continue. "If I’m understanding right, it's not only lovers who can hurt you in these ways. In your heart. So I’m not judging however it is you became hurt. That is, I don’t understand much, but I understand a bit, okay? And I’ll keep trying."

Not knowing what to say, Henry lets the sentiment sit between them, his head whirling. He settles on, "Hyung is kind to try."

A small smile lights up Ryeowook's face. One little upward tug at the corner of his mouth and he's radiant. At last, he raises his eyes up from his lap. "You're not the only one who knows how to read self-help books," he quietly teases. “Also, I do know other people who speak English, you know.” However, he takes on a serious countenance all too soon. "I learned something important."

"What's that?" Henry nearly vibrates out of his skin with the sudden need to touch the man opposite him. Right this instant, the gulf between them has become too much.

"You have to ask for what you want."

He can't take it another second - he gives in, placing his hand over Ryeowook's folded ones. "What do you want?" He asks softly, as though that'll balance the loud need he's announced by way of his presumptuous touch.

The answer he gets almost makes him laugh. Almost, if it didn't sound so confused and full of longing.

"I need...” Ryeowook sniffles. “I need to touch you," he admits, laying bare something that only becomes clearer as he goes on, given that they’re currently touching. "And I need you to touch me. Not ually," he's quick to add, "but like lovers do." He holds Henry's gaze, the painfully earnest hope shining in his eyes willing him to understand his truest desire. That’s all it can be, given how his voice bent towards sorrow, how he held the words in, carefully arranging them same as he carefully arranges his body to avoid any further scares like the last one.

He can be so very good. "Intimate," Henry says with sudden clarity of his own. No clue where he's heard the word in Korean, or whether it's right.

Nevertheless, Ryeowook's shoulders slump in unmistakable relief. "Yes. Intimate." It must mean about the same thing, then. "The rest, I can handle myself, but... I need to..." He looks almost... scared? "...feel close to you in that way," he finishes, looking away and rubbing his upper arm. Best as Henry can tell, it physically pained him to say so, judging by the tight lines around his mouth and eyes.

Aching to rid his love of such pain, he scoots them both back, the chair’s wheels whirring happily along, until his calves hit the bed. His legs are just as happy to give out on him after this whole ordeal, his knees falling wide apart; he’s hoping that tugging on Ryeowook’s hands will lead him to take the hint to fill up the space.

Letting out a giggle, Ryeowook does, but not before handing him a tissue.

He loves me a lot, Henry thinks, ecstatic from relief. They can handle whatever comes next. “I love you,” he says, wanting to say it again and again and again.

-

No matter how well their talk ended up going, though, it wasn’t like flipping a switch. Or pushing a button, and boom, everything’s okay. It took time, and patience, and, ultimately, the promise that they’d made to set aside time to fulfill his partner’s need that had been unearthed.

Rebuilding trust happens message by answered message, call by call, one meal and one day at a time.

Not like there wasn’t plenty to do. He won an award, ate this awesome ice cream cookie pizza, recorded some great music, and like, just, all the lots of usual stuff going on. Ryeowook had the bracelet for a long time this time around. Also, they sent pictures back and forth (the musical ones were supposed to look all rough but were really just pretty, in his extremely biased opinion), saw each other for work a couple of times... But it wasn’t the same. It was like there was this wall.

Maybe there wasn’t any way for there not to be, when the closest thing they got to five minutes of privacy was a music video set visit to drop off food - and that still involved like a hundred cameras around. Obviously, being that busy was great, but...

But I miss him.

It wasn’t enough, but the best he could do was squeeze in a radio visit between two other schedules. And flirt like hell, of course.

He loved getting away with that! The startled leaning away was amusing enough as is, but, man, the pouty dismayed face that Ryeowook made when faced with the other end of the straw was gold. But hey, once he got his bearings, he went for it. Classic indirect kiss. (It seems to be a thing, anyway? Not that it makes sense.)

After Henry was done being toweled off for a commercial that necessitated such a thing (being soaked isn’t really his idea of a good time, but getting paid for it makes that worthwhile), he climbed into the car and saw what he’d been waiting for: a calendar invite. He’s positive he’s never accepted one that quickly before. Like, lightning fast. (Giving Ryeowook view access to his calendar was a damn good idea on the other man’s part, because Henry’s awful at keeping track of that himself. That’s what managers are for.)

They had nothing more than a two-hour block, and that, only if Ryeowook went to sleep immediately after dinner, he learned from his messages. Sounds like plenty to me.

Deep in the core of his very being, he'd never stopped being so, so scared that no one would care about him this much ever again.

That all brought him to now, when Ryeowook was sneaking him in, shushing him at the door before guiding him by the hand to avoid any chance, however slim, of Donghae or Heechul ambushing them. Any delay in the exact procession of events was unacceptable.

He gulped nervously, but forged ahead.

Admittedly, he’s kinda curious, too. What does another person’s body feel like, without pressure to do anything in particular? When it comes to bare skin, is he comfortable touching? It’s always seemed a bigger deal to other people than it does to him. If so, if he is comfortable, how much? Where?

For that matter, what’ll be enough? What does intimate mean, in practical terms?

Setting his worries for his future off into a box on the side in his mind, he takes the initiative to kneel on the bed. Ryeowook kneels across from him, not making any further contact between them yet despite the cramped space.

“Is it okay if... ah, if you take off my clothes instead of me doing it myself?” He looks so shy about it, wringing his hands and biting the corner of his lip, that it takes a second to process what he’s asking. “That is, we’re trying things out, right?”

Eyebrows going up, Henry blinks a couple of times first. “You want me to undress you?”

Ryeowook ducks his head. “Yeah. Is that too weird?” Henry just shrugs.

“Probably not? I’ll try it. It is intimate.” That is, he supposes that’s the case. It’s not something he’s seen anyone else do in public unless it’s a joke, and rarely at that. Or, like, a stylist or something, come to think of it. No, that makes it more confusing-

“Okay. Thanks,” Ryeowook mumbles, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. He’s so cute that Henry can’t help but kiss him. if it’s intimate to him, that’s what matters, right? As long as it’s something I can handle.

“It’s okay. This is how we figure it out, right?” Unwittingly, Henry started flicking the pocket on his own t-shirt. He makes himself put his hands down onto his lap, waiting for Ryeowook to hopefully stop looking so tense about the whole thing - one which he himself introduced into the plan.

Not long later, the usual process begins. Taking a deep breath, Ryeowook lets out a long exhale that relaxes his shoulders and upper body. “Right. And if it’s too much or it’s scary, you’ll say so.”

“Exaaaactly right,” Henry tells him, trying to exaggerate to shoo away the heavy mood. It kinda works - Ryeowook screws up his mouth in something that half looks like a smile and lets out a little snort. That’s more than good enough.

Henry feels a little funny ing Ryeowook’s top button, but new funny, not used to it funny, not, like, grossed out funny. Actually, what’s a little amusing is wearing a button-up for this at all, but Ryeowook doesn’t seem to be in the mood to be teased. He’s looking really nervous. Or... vulnerable.

Which means Henry has gotta respect the gift that is.

The buttons are done. He pushes the shirt back over the other’s shoulders. They’re still nice, pleasant to look at. He drops a quick kiss onto one, instantly pulling back after to check in.

All it looks like is that Ryeowook adores him. So, good. Normal so far. No mistaken impressions to take away. Already, it’s not as scary as it could’ve been. With a long breath of his own, Henry slips the shirt off of each of Ryeowook’s arms. The older moves with him to get that done, immediately crossing his arms over his torso before resolutely pulling them back to either side of himself.

“You okay?” Henry inquires, his brow furrowing in worry. He’s not sure what the issue could be, but that didn’t look comfortable.

“...Yeah, I think so,” Ryeowook replies at length. “I suppose I don’t... know what you think.”

“About what?”

“Ah, I don’t know... Actually, I like it that you’re not trying to get anything from me, but..." Ryeowook catches the corner of his bottom lip with his teeth, then lets it pop back out. "I don’t know what that means. About when you see my body.”

It takes a second to catch his meaning; Henry tilts his head, considering. “When it’s not about , you mean?”

Ryeowook nods twice, his hand rubbing over the back of his neck, looking down and to the side.

“Hmm... How do I explain it.” Henry rubs his hand over his chin, trying to get a handle on the vague blob of thoughts and feelings he has floating around on the subject. “It’s like... Some parts are pretty, and some parts, I don’t feel anything about. I’m curious about- about the feeling.” He pauses, gnawing over the corner of his lip. “How it feels to touch, but also how it makes you feel, a-and whether it bothers me or it’s good or what.”

“...Oh. Well, that sounds alright.” Ryeowook takes one of Henry’s hands in both of his own, matching the kiss from earlier. “As long as I don’t disgust you. That would be too hard for me to handle,” he adds with a cute little frown.

“Nope. Nothing to worry about there as long as we stick to the plan.” Henry pokes the frown until it deepens to the point of absurdity. “Want me to keep going?”

Magic! One frown, vanished in an instant before his very eyes. “Please?”

Henry laughs, slipping his fingers beneath the hem of Ryeowook’s undershirt. The fabric’s a little scratchy; after he’s pulled it off of the other man’s body, he rubs it between his fingers for a second or two. The striping indents in the fabric are interesting. Still too scratchy, though. “This shirt isn’t uncomfortable for you?”

“I don’t notice it after a while,” Ryeowook says, adding with a laugh, “They were on sale in a big pack.”

At that, Henry can’t help but grin. “That does sound like you.”

“They get softer in the wash- Hey!” Ryeowook grabs Henry’s hands where they (just for a second!) tickled his sides. “None of that,” he insists, sticking out his tongue.

“Yeeees, maaaaaster,” Henry jokes in English in a twisting sort of screech. Rolling his eyes, Ryeowook lightly thwaps his arm.

Henry's having fun, though. With a laugh, he nuzzles their noses together, loving the way his boyfriend melts in the face of such an affectionate onslaught. Taking control of the action, Ryeowook lays his hands on Henry’s shoulders, ducking his head to rub his nose into Henry’s neck next.

“You still good?” He asks, his breath ghosting warm down to the base of the younger’s throat. The damp patch it leaves never gets the chance to grow chill with him so close.

“Yep.” Forced by circumstance to push Ryeowook away so they don’t bash their heads together, because it almost just happened, Henry motions towards over the side of the bed with his chin. “Stand up.”

“You said you wouldn’t get bossy,” Ryeowook mutters, completely unironically, but does so anyway.

Thoroughly ignoring that on purpose, Henry places his hand on the other’s hip. Ryeowook's pants are high waisted, so it’s not as awkward as it could be. Still, Henry hesitates. He understands. It’s okay. Nothing to worry about, he reassures himself. It’s not like it was so long ago; no one’s shoving his hand anywhere, there’s nothing to break free from, and there’s definitely no big fight. They were so good together when they weren’t fighting about that...

But that’s in the past now. Everything’s changed since then, himself included. He takes one big breath, then undoes the clasp.

All that happens is he notices that that’s even scratchier than the undershirt. But it’s okay. He hooks both index fingers into the spaces opened up next to Ryeowook’s hips, tugs down, and the fabric falls. That’s it. Really nothing to worry about. No big deal.

Except in a good way, because Ryeowook looks thoroughly pleased, his hands held behind his back. “Thank you,” he says, warm and unbearably sweet. “I liked that a lot.” He uses one foot to pull off the opposite sock, then switches, followed by hopping back onto the bed solely in his black boxer-briefs.

It looks like he’s having fun; the sight sets Henry’s heart ablaze, to see him so carefree for even a moment.

Next, Ryeowook sprawls out onto the narrow bed, nudging Henry with his shin to give him the remaining space to do so. Henry surrenders it, then settles down in the space opened up for him between Ryeowook’s legs. “Anything else I should avoid?”

Ryeowook answered quickly, “No, just nothing too painful.”

“...Huh?” Now Henry’s more lost than ever. “Painful?”

Even more quickly than before, Ryeowook shrinks in on himself, the change a small one that nonetheless screams his embarrassment in bright neon. “Sorry, just a habit.” He squeezes a corner of the pillow he’s lying on so tight that it leaves an indent. A faint scabbed line meanders up from his bent elbow, its origin a mystery. Maybe that thing with the can opener? No, that’s right, it must’ve been when we were peeling fruit and- “I... I can’t think of anything you might do that would be a problem,” the older concludes with a considering pout. The way his mouth moves when he speaks can be really distracting sometimes.

Okay then. Strangeness and fruit aside, Henry has to figure out where he’s okay starting, and also navigate not hurting Ryeowook in the process. Oh, and asking- “Is it okay to touch with my face, too?”

“...Sure?” Ryeowook appears baffled by the question, but quickly recovers. “Hm, I don’t see why not. Just move slowly to give me warning, same as we discussed doing for you.”

“Got it,” Henry asserts, placing his index and middle fingertips on his forehead for a quick mock-salute. Ryeowook calls him cute, then orders him to get on with it already.

No surprise, he starts with the face by kissing the freckle on Ryeowook’s nose that makeup usually hides. Henry didn’t consciously notice until now that Ryeowook’s barefaced ‘cause he wasn’t really thinking about that. Now that he’s aware of it, though, he feels surprisingly... moved by a kind of show of openness that’s specific to the man in question, knowing it’s a point of insecurity. “Hi, handsome,” he murmurs in English, knowing how much his partner likes hearing that. (Can’t argue with it that way, either.)

Smiling shyly, Ryeowook looks away and then back at him, huffing out a laugh before doing it again. “Hi,” he answers in English as well. “I love you.” He forms the words slowly and carefully. It’s adorable. He’s adorable.

“I love you too.” Henry kisses him for one second, two, three, then cups Ryeowook’s cheek in his hand. The look that passes between them says it all, somehow leaving him more at ease about this whole experiment. He traces his fingers down Ryeowook’s nose, over the shell of his ear, along the column of his neck. The texture of the latter is smoother than usual - at least four-shave smooth. Might not be the full six. That’s for shows, and doing so tends to leave his boyfriend’s face feeling unpleasantly tender, so that’s pretty considerate of him, actually.

Ryeowook keeps closing his eyes at the beginning of a touch, then slowly opening them once it’s underway, his exquisite visage utterly besotted, bright and flush and stunning with emotion. He doesn’t falter when Henry feels each of the piercing holes in his earlobes between his fingertips, one on each side, because the memory of the other man gingerly touching those himself the same way when they were new somehow has the younger looking just as enamored.

Everything they have been together swells in his heart.

Then come shoulders, arms, wrists and familiar hands that he discovers anew, holding Ryeowook’s left hand up close to trace over every bit of it. There’s another cute freckle on the side of one finger. Ryeowook giggles, complaining that it tickles, so Henry presses a bit harder so he can keep exploring. He holds Ryeowook’s pinky with his thumb and forefinger, feeling each knuckle as he moves from the crease where it joins the palm to the rounded sosoft top, taking in the sensation from pressing onto the hard, smooth surface of the nail, too, runs the pad of his finger back and forth over it a few times until he figures out that a faint ridge is what he’s feeling.

It’s not particularly different from his own nail, of course. Still, it’s somehow made special because it’s the one he loves. He likes that he’s learning these things - this is what your palm feels like, this is what your neck feels like, this is what the inside of your elbow feels like. (Interestingly bumpy and thoroughly kissable, is the answer.) The warm good-tight feeling in his belly from it, the happy tremor in his heart, is like it’s a hug split out into a bunch of different little parts instead of all at once.

He conveys what he can of his emotions by pressing his lips to the curve of Ryeowook’s shoulder, his palm to Ryeowook’s open one beside him on the sheet, their fingers automatically weaving in between each other until they’re comfortably interlaced.

“So far, so good,” he mumbles.

Proceeding to use the hold as he pleases, he brings their joined hands up at the same time as he moves what’s necessary of the rest of him to meet the impending collision he’s looking for. Through bending back Ryeowook’s hand to the point of the slightest hint of resistance, then a little less than that so that it doesn’t get uncomfortable, Henry gains access to the inside of his wrist. Up close, he could faintly make out the vein beneath the delicate-looking skin, second only in fragile beauty to the older’s face; he sets his sight on that narrow band that comprises the spot he chooses to next land a soft kiss of affection onto.

The move must’ve been too faintly applied, leading a loud giggle to burst forth. Ryeowook laughed like it tickles, but, looking up, the other man also has joyous creases next to each of his eyes, biting his lip around his huge, toothy smile. “That tickles!” He whines, removing all doubt.

Adorable, but not the reaction Henry was looking for, either. To try and get what he wanted, make it known what he really feels that they can do this at all, that his partner makes space for safety for him regardless of how foreign it is to some of the ideas of the society he was raised in... It may not be much, but still, he presses his mouth that little bit harder to the delicate skin in question. By the time he pulls away, the firm pressure had Ryeowook letting out a pleased exhale.

Henry accents it with a closed-mouth one of his own in the next measure. In this moment, he is at peace.

That’s right! He almost forgot that he got permission! No more time to waste - he's gonna get to try the face to collarbone thing that he’s been wanting to for what feels like forever after all. It's somewhat difficult to maneuver right, since his own last shave isn’t quite as recent as he’d like, which means he has to use the top of his cheek more. But it’s great. He can’t help but smile. Not only a feast for the eyes, the skin that stretches over Ryeowook's collarbone is just as smooth as it looks, the rounded bump interesting against the apple of his cheek. That’s enough of that. Henry switches back to tracing it with his fingertips for a little while.

Adjusting his knees to prop himself back up, he reluctantly lets go of Ryeowook’s hand to lay his palms flat on the other’s chest. Hmmm. A bit of squish, that’s nice. I wonder... Is the thing with s for real?

He tips his head to one side, readies his fingers and - very gently! - pinches them both simultaneously.

"Hmf!" All of a sudden, Ryeowook is gripping fistfuls of the sheet on either side of him, breathing heavy.

A squeaky exclamation of surprise slipping out, Henry wastes no time pulling his hands away like he’d wired a car battery wrong. Oops. Guess that's the real deal after all. Leaving that whole business alone.

Left sitting there shamefaced, he decides to just... move on unless he hears otherwise. Which, since he’s not getting yelled at, means it probably wasn’t that bad of a screw-up. He can’t meet the other man’s eyes for a good while to be sure, though.

He enjoys the stomach well enough. It lies mostly flat with only a trace amount of give to it. He’s overall felt this a lot up to now, though, so once he’s been there a good minute, including the waist and the nice little dip at the bottom of the ribcage, he moves on to the legs. After gathering up his courage to finally flick a glance up to Ryeowook’s face, of course. Eyes closed, appears relaxed now, no signs of distress. Good.

Part of Henry wonders, in the back of his mind, if this is what scientists feel like, except there’s no way that they could enjoy their experiments to the extent that he’s liking this one. The soft parts feel nice. The hair parts almost, like... tingle as he smoothes his hand up and down one, in an interesting way. What he likes most, so far, is the happy little humming and sighs Ryeowook’s started making. I’m making him happy. Bursting joy and swelling pride mix in his chest.

He doesn’t know for sure what counts as intimate, but this much, he can tell with certainty.

These are the things he knows: that he’s seen others feed Ryeowook, coddle him some, touch him in ways that rarely linger, but he can’t say that he’s seen the older man open up this way for anyone but him. Not worrying, not controlling (different than bossing around - Henry can’t explain it, but he can feel it, something like expecting to be okay with how things go), not placating nor anything else that requires he doesn’t fully relax. Even in good interactions, pleasant and kind ones, he doesn’t fully drop his guard like he has in here, with the two of them by themselves.

Until right this second, he’d never considered that he himself could also be a safe person. That the feeling of a safe haven could be mutual.

“Hey,” Henry says, and nothing else. When Ryeowook’s eyes have opened steady and warm, Henry pecks each of his cheeks. In return, Ryeowook tugs on the collar of Henry’s t-shirt, his plush, pretty mouth swiftly receiving the kiss he was clearly angling for. Naturally pouty at rest, he’s even more beautiful wearing his big, toothy grin that wraps around an almost-laugh of a breath.

“Want me to turn over now?” He asks, perceptive as ever.

“Yeah, sure.” However, Henry finds himself in need of some levity.

After Ryeowook turns to lay on his stomach, Henry pats his and goes, “Hm. I’ll need to redo this one when you’re not dieting.”

Because it sounds strained, Ryeowook's snorting laugh seems to come out despite himself, like he wasn’t intending to laugh at all. Probably not wanting to give him the satisfaction. “What are you going on about,” he whines. “You can be so weird.”

“Is that right? Whose fault is it that you like a weirdo?” Henry teases, absolutely delighted.

From where his head rests in the nest of his own arms, Ryeowook mutters something unintelligible. Well, if he’s not gonna speak up, Henry is happy to continue on regardless. This time around, he’s careful to keep enough pressure as his hands glide their way up Ryeowook’s back. Once they reach the top, he splits in both directions, exploring the contrast of the soft part of Ryeowook’s upper arms (he really, really likes the extra soft on the underside there) and the indents of faint scars.

Distantly, he’s aware he’s supposed to have an opinion on that, but he just... doesn’t. It’s interesting, sure. It’s a different sensation. But, like, for him, the person in question is what ultimately matters. Plus, his beloved has a great face. Like the best face. That’s more than enough to carry him through anything else.

On the subject of faces, he rubs his own against that soft part, nuzzling it, too, absolutely loving how that feels. He revels in it for as long as the friction doesn’t bother him too much.

After that, he switches to the backs of Ryeowook’s legs, enjoying the harder texture of muscle, too, though in retrospect, it was more pronounced in the front. Well, for the thighs in the front - the calves have more in the back. Where the hair is thicker, more on the side than the back per se, it brings that almost-tingling again; he experiments with pressing harder and softer, seeing how that changes the tingling. He supposes they’re nice legs. They’ve got a good shape. There’s a soft bit right at the top of the thighs. Starting back at the top, he squeezes his way down them, enjoying the different amounts of give and resistance. Ryeowook hums contently. Bodies are pretty interesting.

There’s a dip near the back of Ryeowook’s ankle that Henry presses his finger into, and the ridge of bone that sticks out nearby feels just as funny as his own when he sorta pinches it between his fingers. It makes him laugh.

Not a problem that Ryeowook’s starting to squirm, ‘cause Henry’s done anyway. “Okay, your turn, hyung.”

“Mm. Could you lie on me first? It’s relaxing.” Having made the request, Ryeowook moves his arms to his sides, the left side of his face still mashed into his pillow.

“Sure.” Placing his knees on either side of Ryeowook’s legs to be able to maneuver better, Henry lines up their upper bodies so that most of his weight rests between Ryeowook’s shoulderblades, his temple and cheek pressed up against the back of Ryeowook’s head. This close, he can head the pleased rumble from the other man loud and clear. The echo of a sweet scent is too soothing.

A good minute or two later, Ryeowook starts pushing back against him, which means that’s done. Henry has to snap himself out of a light doze. He makes himself roll over to lie against the wall.

Meanwhile, Ryeowook doesn’t budge just yet, yawning instead. “Give me just a second.”

If it’s gonna be a bit anyway, Henry decides to maneuver himself under half of Ryeowook’s closest arm, letting himself slip back into that doze.

“Hm. All I’ve got here is pasta,” Ryeowook says, snapping Henry back into wakefulness. He’s always gonna be alert when it’s about pasta. “I can quickly make that with some shrimp and a salad. There’s hardly anything else that’s filling left. Been too busy.”

“That’s fine.” Blinking rapidly, Henry sits up and stretches, hearing a couple of pops as he does. “Did you want to switch now?”

“Mm, I do. Ah,” Ryeowook’s hands fly to the bottom hem of Henry’s t-shirt, “is it okay if I...?”

“Might as well try,” Henry answers with a shrug.

Meager though the task may be, Ryeowook takes his time with it. He seems to savor removing pieces of cloth from Henry’s body, his knuckles occasionally brushing against the younger man’s skin. Harmlessly, though. When the t-shirt has been lifted above his head and then folded before being placed to the side, Ryeowook smoothes down Henry’s hair, looking pleased as anything. He inspects what he’s revealed, nothing cursory about his gaze.

Yet without a word, he moves on, gesturing for Henry to repeat the earlier procedure of standing next to the bed, as though sensing - correctly, if imagination draws the same contours as reality - that whatever his thoughts hold, it’s best to keep them to himself.

For once, in his heart of hearts, Henry has to silently agree.

Warmth wraps around his hips. He lets himself feel it, holding back an automatic nod in order to truly learn how he feels about this, simulating what’s about to happen if he gives the go ahead. It wouldn’t make any sense for everything they’ve worked towards to be flipped upside down now. Most likely, a gentle, cursory touch, perhaps with an unnecessary fingertip or two straying from the path of its undertaking, trespassing into the too-close space just above the elastic. But all he’d have to do is place his hands over the straying ones and move them away, should it come to that. What would that do to their fragile trust, though, if such a line is crossed?

All the while, Ryeowook waits patiently, eyes locked on him but expression carefully neutral. He hasn’t moved in the slightest. There’re times when trust is earned by the right inaction.

That, more than anything else, convinces Henry that he’s right to nod his permission. And it’s fine. The button of his shorts is undone, the zipper left alone. Gravity is left to handle the rest, after which, he steps out of the fabric pooled on the floor. Ryeowook folds and sets aside that as well, getting up to give his own clothing that he’d forgotten earlier the same treatment while the tops of his ears rage bright pink, which works to also relinquish the majority of the available space on the bed.

Henry takes the opening, lying on his side just for a change of pace. In front of him, Ryeowook’s hands are clasped together, his thumbs rubbing against each other. “Do you mind... starting on your stomach?”

Out of reflex, Henry smirks, but quickly drops it. Even he knows when it’s a bad time for jokes. “Sure, no problem.” He’s realizing he’s kinda nervous, but not as nervous as he would’ve expected. The mattress dips next to him - what little leftover space could be called such, that is.

Though Henry can’t see him beyond his peripheral vision (unless he strains his neck way more than he’d like), Ryeowook’s hands smoothing over his shoulders and back somehow give off a sense of awe. Could be because of previous compliments, or it could be holding the trust being given to him with care.

Damn, it was really difficult to not fall asleep, except that there’s still dinner after this and pasta sounds awesome.

While Henry’s still contemplating pasta, Ryeowook gently pats his . Way more gently than usual. Henry wiggles it and goes, “Oh, you like that, huh?” And then is annoyed with himself for coming off wrong.

But Ryeowook only runs his hands lightly over the surface, almost imperceptible through the thin fabric of Henry’s boxers, the touch slow and delicate as though he’s a soap bubble that could pop at any moment, and asks, “Is it okay?”

“Hyung!” Henry says indignantly, but he’s laughing, too. “Since when have you worried about touching my ?”

Though Ryeowook makes an annoyed sound, he starts chuckling as well. “Fine, then.” And brings both hands down in a hard smack!

“Ow!” Henry turns most of his upper body back around to pout at him. “I didn’t think you’d do anything weird! I didn’t say you could treat my like a drum,” he grumbles. His boyfriend, who is obviously the worst, simply laughs at him.

“I’ll be good,” Ryeowook insists in a sweet, lilting voice. “I promise.”

Beneath an increasingly absentminded pair of hands, Henry wiggles his again to get the other man’s attention back. It doesn’t feel like a ual body part to him (not that anything but the obvious really does), so he has a difficult time getting a read on if it’s being seen that way, or when. For sure, he couldn't get a read at the moment on whether it was being seen - felt, moreso - as ual here. Although, if it was, Ryeowook was careful to keep any outward signs of that from being too obvious. Besides that, their joking around leaves Henry with the distinct feeling, a new one that it’s taken a while to wrap his head around, that even if that kind of enjoyment is what Ryeowook is experiencing, he’s being careful to not let it drive his actions.

Taking Henry at his word, or so it seems, Ryeowook initiates a massage, starting at the younger’s shoulders and thoroughly working his way down. Including his . More importantly, he touches it no more or less thoroughly than the rest, moving down from it at as steady a pace as he did getting to it. Honestly? It feels really good. So Henry tells him so.

“Ah, that’s good. Sungmin showed me a couple of things, so if you’d like, I can do this more often.” Ryeowook giggles, then continues on to say, “As long as you don’t mind that I’ll usually need a break after.”

...Ah. That does explain it. Means a lot to Henry, though, that the older easily and happily deals with that away from him. That Ryeowook puts in so much effort to make this all work out.

“So... Not to be weird,” Henry starts, because he doesn’t wanna know but also just has to know, “but, that’s enough for you?” He purposely avoids looking back so as to not learn something he might regret. However, Ryeowook’s unexpected bark of laughter puts him somewhat at ease once more.

“I didn’t expect you to ask that! But... Sometimes. You may have gotten an impression of me as more lustful than I am, though?”

“...What do you mean?” Henry’s honestly surprised. Talk about the last thing he expected to hear!

Ryeowook gently smoothes over the back of one of Henry’s thighs. “That is... When I went out,” he says the phrase with a particular emphasis, “it was usually... Hm, how do I put this. It was usually to feel better about myself. For example, if I felt rejected.”

Ryeowook's hand stops. Henry wriggles around to try to get it to go again, having been enjoying the sensation - and his attempt is successful.

Inside, he’s quite pleased. Regardless of the topic at hand, that is. It’s like he’s being petted. “But everyone always said that was for your body to feel good. Is it not for that?”

Behind him, Ryeowook lets out a dorky-sounding snorting giggle. “I didn’t say it doesn’t!” Both hands get in on the action now, adding in the terrain of Henry’s hips and sides. “It just doesn’t, ah... The feeling doesn’t come up for me out of nowhere as often as you think. Sometimes, but not a lot,” he throws out there nonchalantly, apparently costing him nothing. “To be honest... Keep this to yourself, okay?”

Who does he think I’m going to talk seriously about things with other than him?? Right as he thinks that, Henry has to shake away the vision of some kind of, like, ed or something from certain very open-minded friends of his. Nope! Back to the present. “Uh... Sure?”

“Sungmin is definitely more... energetic than I am,” Ryeowook says with a giggle. Henry feels compelled to look back for a second, confirming that the older has his hand clamped over his own mouth. He can be so precious sometimes. Henry feels his gaze soften, then turns to lay his head back on the pillow as Ryeowook goes on to explain. “That wasn’t a problem, but it was higher than my usual amount compared to before he and I slept together.”

“I see.” Henry shifts around and stretches a bit. To be honest, that puts the previous patterns he observed in a new perspective - an anomaly, not the reality he’d been convinced he was seeing. Or, more like... the reality has changed. The terrain is different. Not bad, just different, he thinks with a smile.

Moving slow to in order to give him advance notice and avoid startling like he’s blundered into a couple times before, Ryeowook the younger man’s hair once he makes full contact. “Just a little more, okay?”

Henry has relaxed into the process to the point that getting back up sounds really annoying. “Go for it.”

Ryeowook does, the pressure of his hands over the entire back half of Henry’s body steady and heavy, the nuzzling of his nose and cheek on Henry’s upper back more uneven and almost tickling, but not quite. A quick press of a kiss between his shoulderblades is what the younger feels next, a content sigh what he hears.

“I’m good for now,” Ryeowook says. “Turn over.”

“For now? Can’t get enough of me?” Henry teases him, rotating himself onto his back. However, rather than joking back, Ryeowook watches him tenderly.

“Of course not.”

Henry feels his face flush, his heart beating faster. “I’m already in love with you, what more do you want?” He jokingly complains. Dipping down towards him, Ryeowook only laughs and kisses him, humming happily when he breaks it off.

“Since I have your heart, the only other thing I want is that soup you made last year, when the weather gets cold again.” He squeezes Henry’s hand with a half-smile so beautiful that it’d bowl him over if he wasn’t already lying down.

Henry sends him a full grin right back. “Your wish is my command,” he says. Or tries to. Since Ryeowook laughs and pats his arm, who knows if the meaning came across as intended.

The older pats his ankle, which doesn’t tell Henry what Ryeowook wants until he presses Henry’s knees apart with his shin. At that point, he figures out that he wants to take up the same position the younger did earlier, moving his legs apart to give him what space he can make.

Once he gets settled in, Ryeowook copies the touches to his face from earlier, an amused glint in his eye, though he also pretends to complain about how “You’re so handsome, I can’t stand it!”, kissing him before adding, “I’d be jealous, except I get to do that, so it’s okay.”

Followed by one experimental kiss on the neck. The resulting sensation is on the verge of ticklish. “Is that okay?” Ryeowook asks, his voice a touch rougher than before.

“Uh... Hm. Yeah, it’s not bad as long as you don’t do it a lot.”

“Got it,” the older accepts cheerfully. He switches to nuzzling the crook of Henry’s neck, followed by the spot where his ear meets his jaw, then sits up and runs his hands over the younger’s shoulders and arms. He bites his lip. Seems to really like the arms. “You did a really good job.”

Not knowing what he’s supposed to say, Henry instead hums in response. Ryeowook doesn’t seem to mind; he’s just as engrossed as before when it comes to feeling Henry’s chest and stomach, which doesn’t elicit much of anything. His bottom lip slips out from between his teeth, his breath more audible than it was previously in the hush of the room.

“Thank you,” he says at last, rougher still. His tone is subdued, though not in any particular way that Henry can place. So he hums as acknowledgment again.

The sensation of Ryeowook's hands gliding over his shins is fleeting, stopping momentarily at the knees before crawling upwards. With a look of concentration etched onto his face, the other man shifts in a way that signals uncertainty.

At last, Ryeowook asks, at the border of his boxers, “Can I keep going up to your hips?”

“Uh. Not sure...” Experimenting. That’s all. “Um, try it, I guess?” Henry doesn’t have a good feeling about this, but he has to be sure. Whether he’s afraid or it really doesn’t work for him even after he tries and breathes through it and it goes technically okay, he can’t know ahead of time.

Unfortunately, the feeling grows and grows. His breath grows shaky.

It must be that Ryeowook noticed, too, ‘cause he pulls back to where the fabric starts. “No good, huh?” he says sympathetically. “I get it. I have ways I can’t stand my neck being touched. Not ones you’ve done, though,” he’s quick to clarify.

It takes a while to process, though. “Sorry, that was too much,” Henry ends up having to tell him eventually.

“No, it’s fine. So I know for the future, ah, is it where I touched? Or is it being under your clothes?”

“I think... Actually, I think it’s going up like that. I don’t remembering having a problem with you touching my hip before...” Henry muses, trying to remember, wondering. He pulls down his waistband on one side, exposing a good portion of his hipbone. He takes a deep breath, his exhale extra long. “Here, try it like this.”

When Ryeowook does as he’s asked, it’s less uncomfortable, though not quite reaching neutral. He wants to like the sensation, but he just doesn’t. He decides, “I can sort of handle it, but it’s a bit difficult.”

“Okay,” Ryeowook says, the lines of his body all casual acceptance. “Can I try over the underwear?”

After a bit of hemming and hawing, wiggling his shoulders back and forth to give himself a second or two to think, Henry gives him an agreeing nod.

The other man goes slower than even the soap-bubble-careful he was moving according to earlier. This time around, however, it’s understandable that he would take such a cautious approach. Both thumbs sliding over the divots of Henry’s hips, back and forth, Ryeowook sits patiently, watching a relaxation process just about identical to his own earlier one, waiting until the panic slides off the younger’s face at last. Everything in Henry’s power is what it takes him to not berate himself for having such a strong reaction. For not trusting Ryeowook to stay on the right side of the line. (Overstepping was a real risk until it wasn’t.)

One long inhale. One long exhale. Release the tension. Feel the affection, the love, the peace that can come with being touched. Let the fear float away into nothingness. It doesn’t belong here. In this instance, the lighter touch is mildly pleasant, once he stopped being scared of it. The slide over cloth, and possibly the barrier of it, allow him to enjoy it for what it is. Breathe in. Breathe out.

"Are you okay?" Ryeowook asks him, gentle, so gentle, careful, the care wrapping around him, holding him.

"Yeah," Henry assures him. He is, now. Most of the wound-tight coil has dissipated. He wants to be strong. Impressive. Finding that he doesn’t have to be, not for the time being, is almost... disorienting.

With a hesitant smile, Ryeowook's touch grazes vertically, soft but strictly up, never veering inwards towards the center until his fingers are fully clear of Henry's waistband. While one hand warms his side, Ryeowook's index finger of the other moves to rest in an elegant curl on a spot just below Henry's navel.

"Can I quickly kiss here?" He asks, adding with a smirk, "No tongue."

Had to go there, huh? Henry laughs, the sound pushing any lingering tension out of his chest. "Yeah, okay. As long as you behave." He bites his tongue against a joke about being irresistible.

Reverent lips press lightly against the promised place; Ryeowook's sigh of contentment flutters warm over his skin. It’s okay, Henry thinks, realizing that he thought that because it’s true. That was... completely okay.

After some shuffling around, the older man rests his forehead on Henry’s chest, right next to his heart, his forearm nudging against Henry’s side where it bears his weight on the bed. "I love you so much," he says, accented, the intonation uniquely his as much as the effort he's gone to to pull that phrase out in the moment.

"I love you too," Henry chokes out, full to bursting with the feeling. For all that he taught, this, it seems, is what remains most strongly - and he doesn’t have a problem with that at all.

"Will you be okay if I lie on you this time? I’ll be careful."

Taking a moment to think, Henry lets the top of Ryeowook's head go blurry in his vision. Within himself, he discovers that overcoming fear is a heady feeling and he wants more of it. "Yeah. Yeah, it's okay." To prove it, he wraps his arms around Ryeowook, pulling him down.

Their experiment was... good overall. True to his word, Ryeowook didn’t stray beyond where he was told he could go, and he didn’t leave - including after he clearly saw the outline of what he agreed to. From that, forged out of all he’s been given, Henry glories in his hard-won knowledge of another truth.

He doesn’t have to be perfect to be safe.

Or give what is unbearable, either. Not only has today proven both of those, but also, he can actually feel that their bare chests touching is no threat. Not really. He feels, too, how Ryeowook sinks into his embrace. Feels nothing else for a long moment, until the peace spreads through him, right alongside their legs tangling together, the muscles in Ryeowook's back going languid beneath his hands and arms, the warmth curling around his ribs.

Endless minutes pass just like that. He likes the thought that his beloved cherishes the sound of his heartbeat. The world fades into the background.

At some point, Ryeowook lightly squeezes his ribs. "Ah, so brave, my-"

Henry doesn't know that last word, but it's spoken with such affection that he concludes that that's all he needs to know. The sound of Ryeowook's voice when he said it, the sweet touch holding him at his side, tells him more than enough about its true meaning. Being loved seeps into every corner of him.

They kiss for a little while. No pressure, no pushing, just simple repeated meeting of their lips, Ryeowook’s hand smoothing over his hair, fingertips tracing along his jaw. Eventually, the other moves down so that his head is pillowed on Henry’s chest, sighing contently.

Returning the favor, Henry Ryeowook’s hair in turn. The other’s relaxed breathing puffs right onto his skin, but it’s okay for now. What’s really nice, though, is not having to wear so much clothing out of some worry at the back of his mind that it’ll be taken the wrong way just ‘cause there’s a closed door involved. Or a bed. (It is for sleep and watching movies on your laptop and later having to wipe off all the crumbs from your snacks. What is the obsession there? Is it ‘cause beds are soft?)

...An extension of what he already knew, is what that is. How did he not see it before? Say what you will - though he may not always know why, it remains true that he does always clearly know where he stands with Ryeowook. That alone makes him easier than others; trying to figure out if someone's being polite to you in order to cover up that they hate your guts but don't want to look bad to other people is exhausting. On top of that, the older always has a plan, he’s organized, he looks up reviews and figures out supplements and takes supplies with him, the kind of little things you don’t think about until you need them... He just- handles all that and it’s so, so easy. He makes it easy.

“Sweetie,” Ryeowook says eventually in a bid for attention. Upon Henry’s vaguely answering sound, he asks, “I know we’ve been undressed for a while now, but could you... hold me for a bit? From the back?”

Henry agrees easily, then Ryeowook turns onto his side, his back to the younger, knees and elbows bent and somewhat curled in on himself. The change is nothing more than a different position for what they were already doing. So they curl up like that, Henry threading his arm under Ryeowook’s neck to be able to keep it there for however long, Ryeowook arranging and rearranging all of their limbs to his liking, and after a relaxed sigh signaling his satisfaction, maybe ten or twenty seconds passes where they lie together in contentment.

Sounding pensive, Ryeowook declares in a measured tone, “I like all the different touches except when it tickles, and I definitely like you touching me, but I think...” He squeezes Henry’s arms close to his chest. “I think what I want most is this.”

“What exactly?” Henry’s warm - maybe too warm? but he doesn’t wanna move - and his head’s kinda fuzzy.

“Cuddling with less clothes on.” Realizing what he just said, it seems, Ryeowook barks out the laugh that comes out solely when he’s said something awkward but only realizes afterward, a sharp “Bwahaha!” that rocks them both forward momentarily. “I don’t mean that I’m going to do anything ual.”

“Right.” Frankly, Henry doesn’t know what to say here. There’s no guidebook for this. ...Is there? If he’s lucky, he’ll remember his mental note to do a quick search - and if he’s really lucky, he’ll figure out how to phrase it by then, too.

“Good, you know, then. But I’m saying that this feels intimate to me. It feels... special to me, to be like this with you.” Despite having said something so sweet, Ryeowook doesn’t awkwardly laugh it off like he might any other time, instead stretching his head back as far as it’ll go, making kissy faces the whole way. Clearly stealing Henry’s technique. However, being such a gentleman and all, he meets the other man the rest of the way, laying a quick peck on his soft, soft lips.

Ryeowook wiggles in his arms. Then, it seems they mutually decide to bask in being together, so close to each other while they shut out the rest of the world.

Eventually, Ryeowook pipes up with, “I’m going take a break and then make dinner. Heechul-hyung has usually gone out by now. Should still be okay if I hurry.”

Henry stretches out his back in both directions, twisting sharply to get one stubborn angle. “That sounds fine.”

“Okay, I'll get dressed and I'll be back in a few minutes.” Ryeowook scoots down off the bed, shuffling and wriggling kinda funny.

Then Henry realizes he’s confused. “Huh? But it's your room... Um...”

“Hmm?” Ryeowook’s back is to him, the other man rifling through his closet before hopping his way into a pair of sweatpants.

“Shouldn't I get dressed and, uh...” Henry gestures towards the door. The couch is one thing, but after something like that? This really seems like one of those bed times.

But Ryeowook only quickly shakes his head, looking sort of embarrassed when he turns around partway, fidgeting with the undershirt he unfolded. “I... It's just, I don't want you to... be uncomfortable in my bed.”

Nnnope, Henry’s still confused, and it guaranteed shows on his face.

“It's not like that,” Ryeowook continues, whatever that means. “I was wondering if, um,” he never used to say that, oh god that’s so cute, “you wanted to spend the night after all?” He asks with a shy smile, biting the edge of his bottom lip.

“Yes!” Henry answers happily, before he knew he was going to. “I have to be up early too, though, is that okay?”

“Of course it's fine, I’ll take care of everything. Just get comfortable and I'll be back soon.”

“Okay,” Henry says, then turns over to lie on his stomach while he hears rustling and creaking, taking in a bit of Ryeowook's scent from his pillow and finding it soothing once more. When the sounds die down, Ryeowook soon kisses the top of his head and squeezes his shoulder before leaving the room.

Henry half-dozes, thinking all the while about everything and how happy he is and the first inkling of a melody sneaks in. He decides he'll write it down later, instead hugging the pillow just that little bit closer.

-

They sit next to each other on the flight to Beijing, the late autumn chill retreating from his skin in the crowded warmth. Ryeowook’s got his hair tied up on top of his head - it looks a little cute, but mostly goofy. Henry teases him about it, because of course he’s gonna do that. The older thwaps him and tells him he’s going to squeeze a nap in after he takes a picture, but no matter how annoyed he sounds, there’s that little unmistakable grin peeking out through it.

Seeing in the preview that he’s in the frame, Henry quickly makes his “electric shaver” pose, which had Ryeowook bent over double laughing the first time he saw it - that is, when it involved him actually using his electric razor at the airport. The other man isn’t looking, though. No big deal, since that’s not who it’s for, in the end.

Once the aforementioned picture has been taken, they jostle for the armrest. Though the battle may be fierce, it ends in a ceasefire, the outer edges of their hands pressed up against one another. Henry crosses their pinkies for a few seconds.

“Sleep well,” he murmurs, leaning in close to deliver the message. Not suspicious-close, but close enough that that the words should only carry to their intended ears. “I’ll keep the map open and wake you when it’s almost over.”

“Hmm,” Ryeowook starts with a moue that heralds precise instructions, though Henry already knows what’s coming. “You’ll make sure-“

“Yes, I’m setting a countdown timer,” and he is, right this very instant, “to make sure it’s ninety minutes so you won’t be groggy.” He grins in the face of the other man’s skepticism. “I know you prefer me waking you to the phone noises, and your stomach doesn’t like it if you don’t brace yourself for the descent, so let me handle it this time.” One last squeeze of Ryeowook’s hand, then he lets go to brandish his phone against any objections, the countdown in tall numbers showing it’s ready to go. He even plugs his earbuds into the audio jack and slides the right one into his ear to ensure that only he hears it going off. “That marketing guy’s been less of a jerk to me since you talked to him, so let me do a little something for you, okay?”

Ryeowook’s gaze softens. “Glad to hear that. Thanks.” He closes his eyes and lays back, his hair pillar wobbling for a bit, a smile fading on his face as he nods off.

Henry opens up his book, though he’s not quite ready to make an attempt at resuming it yet, laying his phone on the pages as a makeshift bookmark. He looks out towards the small stretch of skies he can see from his seat, one particularly beautiful profile only enhancing the view. A smile sneaks up on him too, his heart warm and full. Somehow, no matter what their lives end up looking like, he’s sure everything’ll turn out alright.

He presses start.