“Hyung,” Ryeowook says for the fourth time.

“What,” Jongwoon says, as if he doesn’t know what Ryeowook is about to say.

He’s calm, content, and hearing it feels nice. No reason to be an .

“I love you,” Ryeowook murmurs on his shoulder, or at least that’s what Jongwoon assumes it is. Ryeowook’s face is basically planted into his shirt, and Ryeowook slurs a lot when he’s sleepy. It still feels nice. “Y’know.”

“He knows,” Kyuhyun echoes from the other side of the bed, his legs tangled with Jongwoon’s and his arm safely wrapped around his torso. That feels nice, too. “Come up with something else.”

[Cross-posted from AO3]