One out of everyone in this world, I choose to love you. Daehyun

“Youngjae.” Ticklish curls of patterns ran over Youngjae’s exposed belly, little dancing nerves decorating his skin, sending fiery signals over to his sleep ridden brain. “Youngjae-ah.” The vaguely familiar voice warmed a mist of a hot breath over his cheek. Remnants of the warmth touched on his cheek, before Youngjae decided he preferred his interrupted sleep over Daehyun’s morning antics. Letting out a disgruntled groan, he turned over to the over side, grabbing the discarded bed sheets and pulling it towards his somewhat cold body. He flung his arm over his face, his shirt sleeve drooping over his nose. Maybe he could let that discomfort slide. He let out a sigh, choosing to breathe with his mouth.

“Come on, Jae. We have to wake up. You do know that.” He paused.  He let out a whisper after that, as if the following statement was absolutely confidential. “Himchan will go mad if you don’t. You do know that.” Youngjae could imagine the elder with comically widened eyes, his two hands cupping his mouth as a makeshift megaphone. As if it would help. Damn. Youngjae’s sleeve was really starting to piss him off. Drunk from the elations of his sleep, Youngjae tried to direct a passage of air from his mouth in a fruitless attempt to blow away the cotton obstruction covering his nose. That was a really stupid decision to make, as the ever so observant Daehyun had seen that. He had definitely seen that. There was no other reason as to why Daehyun would choose to jump on top of Youngjae’s body, straddling him and flinging the covers off Youngjae’s face, yelling, “I KNEW IT! YOU ARE AWAKE MISTER.” There was definitely no other reason.

Blotches of the bright light tried to stab away the drowsiness of his sleep as he pressed his eyes close forcefully, his face morphing into an all-too familiar morning grimace. His hands automatically moved up to cover his still closed eyes that were being abused by the hideous morning light in all it’s ridiculously bright glory. He hated mornings. “Get up you sleepy .” Daehyun was positively beaming evilly through Youngjae’s squinting. “You are awake.” He shut his eyes as soon as he saw Daehyun’s face. No , Sherlock. “Therefore, I demand you get up, lazy ! Shut up Daehyun. I refuse to. “Don’t you dare refuse to get up. I know all your excuses.” …Right. Damn, I can’t recycle that excuse then. “Get up before I steal your breakfast. I’m not kidding.” Go right ahead. Maybe I can sleep an extra hour or so while you are at it. I wonder if we have any cereal left. “I’m dead serious.”

Youngjae felt the weight get off his body and a muffled thump of Daehyun’s feet meeting the ground. “I’m really serious!” He gaged the voice. Maybe he was near the door. Sure enough, he heard Daehyun’s voice echoing through the hallway outside, the soundwaves wriggling into his room, Daehyun’s footsteps just outside the threshold. Youngjae gladly pulled the covers over his head, thoroughly enjoying the embrace of the lingering warmth left on his cooled bed sheets. A sigh left his slightly chapped lips, his hands pulling the creases and valleys of the white linen closer around him.

Suddenly, in an expensive swirl of cologne and peppermint, a body launched itself onto the bed, ripping the covers off Youngjae’s body and entangling his legs with the others. “You really think I would let you off that easily?” A hint of evil laced his words, as once again, Youngjae felt the ghost of Daehyun’s breath on his face. This time, the sensation was much, much closer to his lips. The younger’s breath suddenly hitched, his eyes opening. He was greeted by a particular boyfriend, a smirk dancing on his lips. In his sudden haste of surprise, Youngjae bit his bottom lip, the metallic taste mingling with his saliva. Blood. He wrote another mental note to himself.  Maybe in a green sticky note. Stop biting lips accidently. He stuck it somewhere in his mind, next to the few dozen he had made before. Daehyun’s hands burned a trail as he pushed Youngjae’s shirt  up at the back, his fingers playfully prancing along his skin. “Awake yet?” Youngjae didn’t respond, trying to ignore the heat that was rushing up and brushing his face the colour of his raging blood. He felt his ears start to go very hot. Hot. Red. Red. Red ears. That meant the blood would surge through his veins next, up his cheeks in a mess of pink and red hues, resulting in the thing that Youngjae undeniably hated the most. Blushing.

He couldn’t help it. His body naturally reacted to Daehyun’s antics like that, his touch sending fiery bells of alert around, messing up with Youngjae’s cool and collected form, collapsing his stability into an uncontrollable mess of wild pink and red. “Daehyun Syndrome.” Youngjae whispered, averting his eyes away from the pixie-like eyes of the devious male mere centimetres away. It didn’t really help that his boyfriend was that close to him. The close proximity of the significant other made him have no real choice of his own but to choose between Daehyun’s eyes, nose, or mouth. As he had mentally scrawled out beforehand, he was not going to look into those devilish eyes. His eyes trailed down his nose. How could even Daehyun’s nose be so perfect?

The slight dark shadows sketched in the valley between his cheek and nose, his slightly high bridge of his nose glistening with moisturiser. He slapped himself with a mental hammer. Did he want to go even redder? Maybe he should slap his existence with a jack hammer instead. Yes, that was a good idea.

He really didn’t want to. He didn’t want to give Daehyun the satisfaction of knowing that he had won over the younger in waking him up so easily. But he had no control over his body as the shivers coursed through his body, zapping their way through every nerve, even entwining themselves in his shadows and the slight curves of his body. He didn’t want to look at Daehyun’s lips. He didn’t want to at all. Maybe he did. Slightly. But he could never admit it. And he couldn’t admit it that he liked how Daehyun attacked his lips with a one, two and a smirk.

“Did you bite your lips again?” He barely registered Daehyun’s mumbling through his cloudy consciousness. ing Daehyun syndrome. He felt Daehyun’s tongue his bottom lip, the exact site of where Youngjae had bitten his lips a few heartbeats ago. A few erratic heartbeats ago, that is. “I told you not to bite your lips, babo.” The flick on his forehead brought him back to life, his sanity suddenly being into his rightful place. And so, he did what every normal person would do when he was being abused into waking up. “JUNG DAEHYUN!”

Soon later, a shocked Daehyun was sprawled on the ground, looking shellshocked at the Cheshire cat of Youngjae grinning before him. “Thanks for the morning ual abuse. But I prefer to do all that later. BREAKFAST!” He cheerily got up, smirking as he dumped the sheets onto the blank faced Daehyun. Poor thing was wondering what he had done wrong to trigger Youngjae to ruin such a ‘romantic’ moment like that.

“COME BACK YOU LITTLE-“

Youngjae was instantly tackled by his boyfriend, limbs flying everywhere as they sprawled on the ground together, laughing loudly. “You little prick. That was a great moment you just ruined you know.” Daehyun poked the skin of Youngjae, scrunching his face up slightly. “Whatever.” Youngjae stuck his tongue out at the other. “Oh no you didn’t not just!” Daehyun grinned, bringing Youngjae’s face closer to his own. “You did not.” Their lips pressed together in a harmony of Daehyun’s overly soft lips that were taken too much care of, and Youngjae’s chapped ones. The angular face of Daehyun met Youngjae’s softer features in an unbelievable encirclement of tender affection. “One out of everyone, in this world,” Daehyun muttered through his sweet kisses, peppermint surrounding the air, “I choose to love you.” Youngjae smiled into the kiss, a light sort of buoyancy filling his head.

Fingertips caressed his moment of dejavu. The moment felt all too familiar. Too familiar. Youngjae opened his eyes, slowly, the horror of realisation setting in.

He let out heavy breaths, beads of sweat lining his forehead, despite the benign nature of the dream. Something felt wrong, making the dream feel wrong. The humidity and temperature of the place was wrong. The chair he was tied to felt wrong. The darkness that engulfed his soul felt all so... wrong.

"Awake, sweet cheeks?"

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Oh hi. Here's an update in such a looong time.

Sorry!

Writer's block is absolutely merciless.