Maybe it was the way the simple strums on the guitar and the soft piano that Suho loved so much. Maybe it was the way Lay's fingers moved almost without a thought against the golden strands. Maybe it was the far away look he would get when hummed Suho to sleep. Maybe it was when Lay noticed that he was asleep and he could feel the soft kiss pressed against his forehead. 

Suho thought maybe it was all of those things but he knew he was in love. 

 

Lay couldn't decide himself whether it was the way Suho smiled when Lay laid his hand in his lap or when he always reached for Lay's hand when they walk close together. He couldn't pick between the look in Suho's eyes when he painted or when he wrote swirly letters forming into a beautiful book of poems all about Lay. But Lay didn't want to

Choose he loved every inch of Suho no matter what he choose.