He couldn’t stop tossing and turning in his bed. Restless. He could never sleep with too much noise or too much light or even too much motion around him, but even in the eerie silence of the dark night he couldn’t sleep. His mind was too loud and the silence that stretches inside his one hell of a room certainly isn’t helping.

He sat up, rubbed his eyes and grabbed his phone. The clock flashed a red 3:00 AM, blinding him temporarily from the bright colour. It’s been almost two hours, he thought to himself as he rubbed his swollen face. It’s amazing what one question could to him, he could still remember the confused and desperate look he gave to him a while ago, the longing and the slight hope in his voice. He sighed loudly and went out of the room, not forgetting to grab a pen and a paper from his nightstand.

He needed time and space to think, and his spacious new living room was a good enough place. It’s not like he could walk around the neighborhood at 3AM in the morning, his manager would kill him. Or he would kill him. He shuddered at the thought and faced his vision towards the blank sheet of paper. The emptiness of the paper was like an indirect mirror on how empty his mind is right now.

What is love? What is the truth about love? Was he in love? How can he prove he’s in love?

It’s been too long since they’ve shared their first sinful kiss, since they slept in each other’s embrace, since the stealing glances and secret smiles. But is that really love? Was he really in love? Were they really in love?

He opened the cap of his pen and he said to himself; Yeah, I’m gonna crack that code, I’m gonna break it down, once and for all.

He thought about what attracts him towards the person he’s thinking about right now, who’s probably having a deep slumber inside his comfortable sheets with his mouth half opened and his hair disarray.

He thought about the strange fascination with his lips and toes. His lips; his thin, naturally pouty lips. He thought about how it tasted against his own lips, he thought about the beautiful melody that came out of those perfect pink lips, the sinful sounds he made with it, the airy laughter he let out and most importantly, the bright smiles he would give him and only him. He thought about his toes, the toes that would tickle him on mornings where he found himself in his embrace, complete with sheet marks and rug burns on both of them. His lips unconsciously curved into a smile, he loved all of those things about him. He loved the feeling of his lips on him, he loved having his toes tickling his early in the morning, he loved the feeling of his soft fluffy hair on his face and he loved the warm embrace they shared. But there it is that word again, loved. But if he only loved him for his physical appearance then wouldn’t it be just called lust? He shook his head and ran his fingers through his hair. This can’t be right; I’m not lusting on him. Definitely not.

He could remember the smelling of armpits on nights where they were both too tired to get cleaned up and fall asleep in their own respective beds. He could remember the weird stench that struck his nostrils first thing in the morning, waking him up more effectively than his alarm could. On mornings like that, he would immediately sat up, threw the man down from their bed and watch as he grunt and complain but went back to sleep anyway. But of course, being the gentlemen he claimed to be, he would pick him up from the floor, lay him down on his bed and fixed his hair, tucking him in for an extra fifteen minutes of slumber. He realized he missed smelling that nose-scrunching scent, despite his freedom of breathing in his closet like new room; it just wasn’t the same without his scent in the morning.

Love is the schemes and the plots. The sneaking away to steal little kisses and the backstage hugs of remedy and comfort. The little schemes they make to sneak away from a group lunch to have a private little coffee date. The sinful kisses in the practice room when everyone was out to get drinks and the brief moment where his hands would wrap itself around his and squeezing it in a comforting manner; as if saying everything’s okay, I’m always here for you. He sighed, thinking how hectic life has become and how those kisses and hugs were decreasing rapidly, contrary to popular belief in where he was the jerk in hurting his significant other; it was sometimes him who needed the attention. Call him an attention seeker, because really, that’s just who he is. He would do anything to get a little praise or a pat in the head from him. Sandwiches without the crust are a regular thing he’d always done, considering how whiny he could get about the things he eats. Even if such things were a bother for him, seeing his cheeks lift up, his lips crook up and his eyes disappearing was worth all that, the smile that only he can see. No one else is allowed to see his genuine smile, no, no one but him.

Despite all the fun things in life, he realized how nasty and salty love could be. He could remember all the regrets in the morning, the look of hurt visible in both their gazes. He could remember the screams and shout they equally shared on certain nights, the fist fights they had resulting in applying more concealer than what the stylists have agreed on. He unknowingly sighed, remembering the bitter memories. He would take it all back if he could; hug him, kiss him, pin him down was probably what he should’ve done instead of adding salt to the flame. Having to see him hurt is like all his breathing pores were clogged and he could no longer breath, it felt like his heart is scarred a million times over to know that he’s the reason for the look in his eyes, the raging breath and the irrational mind.

He looked down at the senseless scribbles on his used to be white paper and was reminded of the question he was asked earlier tonight. Do you love me?

“What are you doing up?”

He lifted his gaze to meet soft brown locks sticking out in every direction a sleepy gaze from none other than he himself. His lips were dry and nothing could come out of his mouth, so he could only watch as he disappeared into the kitchen, messing the contents of the cabinet and taking instant foods out.

“Are you having troubles sleeping? Do you need me to tuck you back in bed?”

His voice was soft, comforting, just hearing it coming out of his mouth was enough reason to lull him back to bed. He stood up from his chair, putting the pen recklessly on the table and walked towards the kitchen. He scoffed when he saw him stirring his ramyeon cup lazily.

“Your face is going to get swollen by tomorrow hyung, your fat belly isn’t enough for you or something?”

“Shut up Nam Woohyun, I’m hungry”

His lips juts out in a cute little pout and Woohyun chuckled. He took in the image of his unruly soft brown locks and long fingers, his cute little fat belly and his long fingers, his hard chest and white milky skin.

“Stop staring at me, it’s creepy”

Woohyun smiled to himself and took a step closer, embracing him in his skinny muscled arms.

“W-what are you doing?”

“Nothing, I just want to hug the man I love, can’t I do that?”

He felt his head shift and was met with brown dilated pupils.

“Really?”

Woohyun felt like laughing at the smitten face he was giving him. His eyes never sparkle like that before and his face seems to light up more than the moment the company told them that they were going to debut.

“Yes, I Nam Woohyun have been in love and will always love you, Kim Sunggyu ”

He lessened the space between the two of them and the moment their lips met, he could feel him sigh lovingly into the kiss. It was an unforgettable kiss, even after all these years.

-fin-