cold dry pillows

because they don’t always have to travel to fall in love with each other.

Jongin and Kyungsoo sleep beside a window.

It was Jongin’s idea—in fact, it was the first thing that Jongin had suggested upon their first tour of the apartment, when the walls were bare and the rooms echoed in their emptiness. They had both known even before setting foot in the apartment for an initial tour, that this was the one that they would be renting out, for the open floor plan was what Kyungsoo had desired, and the location and upgrades—just far enough away from Seoul to be wonderfully quiet during the mornings, but just close enough for them to walk to the city, with dark wood floors, granite countertops, and brand new appliances, including a surround-sound music system installed throughout the place—had been all that Jongin had desired.

It was a lovely compromise—hardly even a compromise at all, considering that the apartment had the amenities that they both desired—but Jongin and Kyungsoo could’ve rented a tiny box of a place in Gangnam, amongst city noise and drunken neighbors and been happy as long as they were together.

They, of course, preferred their living arrangements as they were now over a tiny box in Gangnam.

Kyungsoo had a better sense of interior design than Jongin, so Jongin had happily left the furniture-picking and wall-decorating to his boyfriend, helping to build and hang things when needed, and had been pleased with his trust in Kyungsoo’s skill, because their apartment was minimalist and easy to keep clean, but homey and rustic.

The master bedroom of their apartment is painted a soft grey that’s neither gloomy nor bright, and instead of spending an afternoon mounting and hooking up a television on one of the larger walls, they had decided on a whim to buy a stencil of the world’s continents,  traced all seven onto the wall and painted over the sketches with a dark brown wall paint.

The map serves as a picture-board of some sort, because Kyungsoo has pinned polaroid images from their many trips around the world to their respective locations, including a grainy photo of himself wearing purple 2013 New Year’s Eve celebration glasses that’s been tacked to Northern California, from when they visited San Francisco for the New Year several years back, and a picture of the both of them smiling rather dorkily into the camera, noses red from the cold air, with the Arc de Triomphe high in the background, from their Winter trip to Paris.

Pinned to Japan is one of Kyungsoo’s favorite memories—a picture of Jongin wearing Mickey Mouse ears, with an open-mouthed, squinty eyed grin painting his face that Kyungsoo had taken while they were waiting in line for the teacup ride at Tokyo Disney, just after sunset. It was Kyungsoo’s favorite picture, because he had managed to catch Jongin mid-laugh, the source of such a priceless expression.

Though the Memory Map (as Jongin has so cleverly dubbed the wall) is what usually catches and holds the attention of anybody who passes through their little world, what really gives the master bedroom a warm, cozy vibe, is the exposed brick accent wall that takes one of the biggest walls of the room. This wall, aside from giving the room a touch of urban essence, also boasts a large, multi-paned glass window, draped with curtains that were seldom closed, overlooking the quiet neighborhood that they live in, and a few of the towering buildings of Seoul.

The long side of their bed was pushed flush against the window at Jongin’s insistence, and during the Summer, the window provided a cool chill to their sheets, a welcome relief against South Korea’s sweltering Summer heat, and they would sleep, blankets kicked to the side, bare skin against bare skin (because however warm it was, they still clung to each other).

Unfortunately, Summer in Korea has long since passed, and the dewy, deep-seeping Winter is beginning to settle into the air and more personally, the window against Jongin and Kyungsoo’s bed, leaving a chilling cold to seep into their bones at night. They sleep wrapped up in two blankets—a soft, thin knit, zen green one that they usually cover the bed with during the Summer, and on top of that, their more commonly seen black comforter—but still cling to each other, if not out of a need for being close, then for a craving to be warm.

They’re both marathon sleepers, Jongin and Kyungsoo, able to sleep an entire day away if allowed, and Kyungsoo always finds himself nodding off on Jongin’s shoulders during flights, movies, and even at gatherings held by their friends—which is why Kyungsoo is incredibly disoriented when Jongin shakes him awake hours after they’ve gone to bed, before the sun has even risen.

“Stop,” Kyungsoo whines against Jongin’s movement, hardly opening his eyes, but furrowing his brows anyway. Jongin is lying on his back, Kyungsoo tucked beneath his arm, head resting just beneath Jongin’s collarbone, and in sleepy irritation, Kyungsoo lifts his arm, which had been tossed lazily across Jongin’s chest, and lightly slaps his boyfriend’s sternum with the heel of his hand, the gesture weak and received with a soft laugh from Jongin.

Jongin hadn’t been able to sleep—perhaps it was because he was the one who slept closest to the window, and even with two blankets and Kyungsoo draped over him, it was still too cold for him to be comfortable, and he had woken up after a shallow few hours of sleep, at 6:51 in the morning—just twenty-four minutes before the sun was set to rise.

“‘Soo,” Jongin purrs, wrapping both of his arms around Kyungsoo and giving the smaller a playful shake that makes the mattress groan in protest beneath them. Kyungsoo eyes fly open in surprise, and he makes a noise not unlike the mattress, and stubb