Pale fingertips walk themselves along the ridges of his being, across the bends of his arms, the curve of his lower back, over the soft expanse of his exposed shoulder blades. It's a butterfly's wing of a touch, barely there, just a breath away from being nonexistent. 

It's dark outside, the only available light being moonlight as it dribbles through the blinds. It's kind of serene. Kind of sad, too.

This is Dongwoon's bed, in Dongwoon's house, and yet it doesn't feel much like a home until his face takes its place squashed against the skin of his lovers clavicle. But Dongwoon knows already that this isn't to last. He knows that he doesn't have much time now, to enjoy the gentle touches he receives in the middle of the night, the touches that the other isn't even aware of. The small clinging hands, the scrunching of eyebrows upon finding an empty space beside him. Dongwoon watches all of this, he never sleeps with his lover by his side. With Gikwang by his side.

Dongwoon's fingertips continue their late night adventure over the moon stained skin beneath him, dragging them up against the others spine, a smile tugging at his lips as he curls up tighter and clutches the pillow he'd been loosely holding onto. Gikwang can't sleep without hugging anything. 

He knows deep down that this is love, and he knows deep down that to Gikwang, this is . Gikwang doesn't love Dongwoon, he loves his body. He doesn't love his mind, or his words, he loves what he does with his mouth and what he whispers when they're tangled together under the covers. It takes everything Dongwoon has inside to not give an 'I love you', or a 'you're so beautiful', because he knows that Gikwang doesn't work like that. Gikwang doesn't like tightly knit relationships and he doesn't like soppy words. Gikwang likes to have and then he likes to leave and perhaps text Dongwoon a day later. 

Dongwoon watches all of this happen of course, but he dared not say anything. If he could have moments like this, watching Gikwang's fingers curl around thin air in search of something, to watch him mouth little conversations at two in the morning as he shifts a little closer to the warmth that Dongwoon exudes, it's almost enough.

They've never kissed. It plagues Dongwoon that they've never kissed, drives him insane. He's tried, tried to communicate his love through kisses, but the minute Gikwang realises, he turns away, leaving Dongwoon's confessions pressed against his burning cheek, unheard and a little less confident than before. Gikwang is complicated and simple and weird and beautiful and it hurts that Dongwoon won't ever be more to him than a body to play with.

So, as his fingers reach their destination upon his lovers hair, curling through the raven strands, he feels a bitter smile form on his face, his eyes prickling as Gikwang shifts to better feel the soothing touches. He's much like a cat in that aspect, always cuddly, but you can never get further than the surface. It did and still does frustrate Dongwoon, that Gikwang doesn't even see himself as anything more than a body without feelings. He doesn't care for himself the way Dongwoon cares for him, doesn't love himself the way Dongwoon does and will always. His face is achingly beautiful, the moon casting an unreal looking glow across it, and Dongwoon wants nothing more than to keep him. Keep him here, in this bed, to hold him all night and maybe all day. To hold his hands and watch him smile and just finally, finally say the three words that are constantly on the edge of Dongwoon's tongue. 

He knows he'd never get the same three words in return, but Gikwang knowing would be enough. For now, at least. In this moment, Dongwoon is almost okay with their arrangement. He's almost okay with the idea of Gikwang simply finding somebody else to be close to when he isn't available. He's almost okay with not being the only one Gikwang touches. It's almost okay… 

A sigh escapes as the other rubs his face against the pillow for just a moment, before rearranging himself so that the moon illuminates the back of his hair rather than his face, which is serene as it faces Dongwoon's chest. He can almost feel the soft puffs of breath Gikwang takes, and even that makes him feel a little better. He's here, not with anybody else. Right now, Dongwoon can pretend that their love is something of substance, something real. He can pretend  that Gikwang loves him back, and isn't just moving to become comfortable. He's moving to be closer, to cling to Dongwoon like he's a life support machine, his heartbeat keeping Gikwang stable and at peace.

His travelling fingers find their way to the delicate features of Gikwang's face, the pad of his thumb running over soft and relaxed eyebrows, over nonexistent eyelids, down the bridge of his straight nose, contouring the lips he's so desperate to kiss. How many people have done just this… how many… actually kissed these lips? 

Dongwoon's only reply was a soft scrunching of Gikwang's face, and it's there for just a second before melting back into the epitome of peace. Dongwoon wishes he could climb inside of Gikwang's head and make friends with his mind, ask why, why won't you let me love you? It won't hurt like this hurts, I'll love you until you know how to love yourself. I'll twist all of your flaws into strengths, watch you grow like a little caterpillar, cocoon you and nourish you until you get your wings and fly away again…

And he would, within a heartbeat he would do it, even if it meant losing Gikwang in the end, because nothing hurts more than watching the person you love hate themselves, treat themselves as if they were a disease. 

Dongwoon loosely takes his wrist, bringing it to his lips. Gikwang doesn't know that Dongwoon knows about the very nearly invisible white stripes fading from his skin here, because Gikwang doesn't think anybody notices him as a whole. He throws himself at people to be noticed, but if he'd let Dongwoon speak for even a minute, for five seconds, he'd know that he's always been the centre of someone's world. 

"I love you…" he whispers to the sleeping boy, the silence in the room almost deafening now it's been broken. This is the only time he's ever had the courage to say it, in the dead of night, Gikwang safely tucked away in his dreams none the wiser. 

And the sad thing is, he never will be any wiser.