If you let me, here's what I'll do-

Jongup opened the door of his room. Junhong was sitting at the corner, legs stretched in front of him, eyes trained on his fingers. Junhong looked like a doll. As always. His skin porcelain, heart breakable. They had argued. About the day before. It was jongup's fault. He brought up that guy. The one who had junhong's heart, who crushed it to the dirt. Jongup had never been angrier, watching Junhong defend him. He left the apartment. Hood pulled over to shield his angry eyes. But he wasn't going to leave Junhong like that. He couldn't. The boy didn't deserve it, and he felt too strongly for him. 

Junhong looked up from his fingers, small sad smile tugging at his lips. Jongup walked closer and saw the marks on his neck. He felt a wave of guilt wash over him. The pleasure, euphoria, pride from last night scattering behind the shadows of the cupboard to die. Junhong would never be his. No matter how much his lips claimed his skin. Blood ink doesn't last past what lust is able to cover for. Junhong didn't love him. Jongup invited himself to sit across Junhong. Jongup knew he should have been brave. Should have made junhong his before the world claimed him. But he was too afraid. He didn't deserve junhong. So he swallowed his confession, threw the roses in the trash; he gave Junhong away. To someone who wasn't there in the first place; to catch Junhong as he fell.  His mind wandered to the question he left dangling on the doorframes before leaving-

Junhong. Then what am I?

He very much wanted an answer. But it didn't matter for now. It was a stupid question anyway. Jongup placed the flower on junhong's lap. It was a stray flower. A clover maybe. Jongup wasn't sure. He had picked it for Junhong on the way back. He wished it was a rose, or a sunflower or something pretty bought from the florist. But it wasn't. It was just a clover, a stray just like he was. "I'm sorry Jonguppie hyung..." Junhong mumbled, his eyes were swollen. Fingers reaching tentatively towards the flower. Jongup didn't want him to cry anymore. He hated it so much when junhong cried. He shook his head. It's ok. I don't matter. I just want you to feel better. But Junhong couldn't hear his thoughts. "Thank you hyung... I don't deserve you..." Junhong choked back a tear. He hated how he cried too easily. And jongup always had to be there to place a comforting hand on his back. To wipe the tears away gingerly. He hated how jongup looked tired. Mostly because of him. Jongup didn't have to lose sleep over his problems. You deserve the world, Junhong. Jongup didn't say that. Instead he opts for shaking his head. 

"Junhong, I'm sorry I shouted at you... And I'm sorry about-" 

"Don't! It's okay, really... And you were right... He is an ..." Junhong smiled, earning a wary one from jongup.

"Junhong... I know you don't... Feel the same way..." jongup felt his heart hurt, "But I just want you to know I'll always be here... Junhong I'll take care of you..." 

Junhong sniffled. Tears tracing down his skin. He choked out jongup's name before the older boy pulled him into his arms. They stayed like this for a while. Junhong clinging to him for his dear life. Junhong who needed Jongup to stay rooted to the ground. To keep himself from floating away; fading away. Jongup kept him close, prevented him from drifting like the butterflies threatening to tear up his insides. 

They were on the couch. Watching mindless television; huddled up to each other's sides. They felt a strange comfort from the warmth. Familiar comfort. The clover sat comfortably; rather limply in a discarded plastic bottle. Junhong had insisted on keeping it immortalized. To him it was beautiful. They weren't concentrating on the show. Jongup was too distracted by junhong's hand in his. Faint tingling on the insides of their skulls. Junhong had laced their hands together and now they rested neatly on the younger's lap. Junhong occasionally played with his calloused fingers. He was dressed in jongup's clothes. Baggy shirt and shorts. He now smelled like jongup- mild cologne; hinge of dance studio parquet; jongup's soap. And a mild mix of junhong's scent. Jongup inhaled. This was the smell he'd often taste in his dreams. The smell of Junhong belonging to him, not entirely, but it was enough. He never had to smell that obnoxious cologne again. The one that always clung to Junhong like a plague. He rested his head against junhong's, letting the fine bristles tickle his cheek. He wondered if they’d ever be like this again. He would’ve killed for moments like this. But maybe in the future Junhong would find love again. Hopefully in him, possibly in someone else. Jongup wasn't sure what he was. Wasn’t sure of anything. But right now junhong's hand in his was good enough. For now till infinity jongup would protect Junhong. Make him feel loved; beautiful. Make him smile, not let him get hurt anymore. A porcelain doll sacredly framed behind thick glass. He'll take care of him. 

Junhong snuggled closer to jongup's shoulder. It felt familiar against his cheek. Warm; strong; always there. He closed his eyes and let the hypnotic buzz of the television replace his thoughts. Maybe one day when the clover would need replacing, Junhong would find love again. This time hopefully in Jongup. Jongup who treated him like porcelain, loved him even though he was broken. Maybe one day the purple marks on his skin would resurface, under Jongup's warm lips. Junhong was certain one day he would wake up and fall hopelessly in love with Jongup. Fall hopelessly in love with his best friend. Because he knew the butterflies were there for a reason. Jongup's touch gave him goosebumps. Jongup made him laugh. Made him feel loved; beautiful almost. Jongup had always been there; took care of him. In time he was certain it would be his turn. He pulled Jongup's hand to his lips and pressed a kiss against the back. Jongup was sleeping, dreaming bittersweet dreams. He wouldn't notice. Junhong got up slowly, making sure not to wake the older boy. He was going to make them lunch. Jongup always said he made the best lunches. Junhong cooks because he wants to take care of Jongup for once. Just like how he secretly tries to do Jongup's homework and patch up his torn clothing. He was sure his cooking was close to awful. But Jongup would make exaggerated satisfied noises, so Junhong would do it again and again for his hyung. He lets the rice cook, walking back to join Jongup on the couch. Junhong leaned in and brushed the hair away from Jongup’s face. Jongup deserved the world, so Junhong thought. But for now till infinity, maybe, just maybe, Junhong would be enough. So Junhong whispered a solemn promise in Jongup's ear, a promise that he would keep-

They went on a date to the barbecue shop when they were ready. Jongup had asked him, courage showing in his eyes. He held Junhong's hand, led him out the door. The first of many times to come. They walked down the streets, hands fitting snugly; perfectly. Junhong gave him a small peck on his cheek, and Jongup decided he liked the way they looked reflected upon the glass of showcases. They punched each other's shoulders because they made the most pointless jokes. Junhong cooked the meats for his hyung, eyes lighting up when Jongup ate with much enthusiasm. Jongup made Junhong laugh, made him feel beautiful. Junhong made Jongup fall endlessly in love with him. Junhong had soft lips, lips that were now Jongup's. Junhong was so so beautiful; and Jongup knew he was much more than porcelain as his cheeks turn a lovely pink. On good days he'd dream of Junhong. On most days, perfect days, he'd wake up beside him.

Jongup kept his promise. He made Junhong feel better, took care of him.

Junhong kept his promise. He was Jongup's to keep forever. 

I'm done! I hope this fic was somewhat enjoyable! Thank you guys for reading, subscribing and commenting! 

I hope the ending wasn't too abrupt! 

Till the next jonglo fic~