Tao likes Sehun.

Tao likes to play with Sehun’s fingers. Whether they’re intertwined with his own or locked in place on the couch while watching TV. 
Tao likes the contrast of skin colours - the way porcelain fingers glide delicately over his own golden skin whenever Sehun accidentally hits his hand during performances. 
He also loves the way Sehun’s fingertips feel, rubbing at the back of his palm in a reassuring way while waiting backstage, curing his anxiety so quickly as if it’s his medication.
Tao loves the freckles on Sehun’s hands, he likes to join the dots on pale skin in hopes to make a masterpiece out of a masterpiece.
Tao likes to touch Sehun. He likes to feel the soft baby hairs on the back of his arms and the silky smooth texture of his lips as he brushes them with his thumb. But the fingers the most - definitely the fingers.
The way delicate fingertips feel like relaxing cream at the nape of his neck, cheeks, forearms. The way knuckles tense while nimble fingers wrap around the neck of a microphone. Yes, definitely his fingers.

Tao likes Sehun so much.

He likes the way his tongue traps between his small lips very quickly before snapping back in. The way he fidgets in his seat whenever Tao sits next to him. The way his stern persona is nothing like his off stage persona as his gorgeous smile illuminates the darkness of the room out back, where his light fingers are in Tao’s hair and soft lips are pressed upon feline ones in a rushed manner before having to change.

God, Tao likes Sehun so ing much.