ENHYPEN

𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 | LHS

ᴖ̈ ⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ ᴖ̈ ⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ ᴖ̈ ⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ ᴖ̈ ⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ ᴖ̈ ⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ ᴖ̈

The quiet rustle of footsteps signalled the arrival of Heeseung's guard, but neither of you broke from the moment. Without turning, Heeseung spoke in a low, steady voice. "Cancel today's meeting. My main priority right now is her." His guard nodded silently and disappeared as quickly as he had entered, leaving you both in the thick stillness of the kitchen.

Heeseung's focus shifted back to you. Gently, his solid and veiny hands slid to your waist, lifting you as though you weighed nothing, placing you softly on the kitchen counter. Your legs dangled loosely, feet not quite touching the floor, as he stood between them, his presence a quiet reassurance in the void of words.

His thumb brushed against your cheek, wiping away the remnants of your tears with the softest touch. His hand moved up, fingers brushing through your hair, tucking away the loose strands that had fallen from the messy state you had let it get into. Then, he cupped your face with such tenderness that you thought your heart might break again. He kissed your palms, one after the other, the warmth of his lips a stark contrast to the cold world outside the embrace of his touch.

You didn't speak. Neither did he. But the way he held you, touched you—it was enough to say all the things that words could never convey.

After a beat, he pulled away just enough to look at you, his gaze searching your face as if memorizing every detail, every bruise left by the past you had shared with him. Then, without a word, he turned toward the stove, the quiet clink of dishes and utensils breaking the stillness.

You watched him, your chest still heavy from everything unfolding. Heeseung crept, his back to you as if nothing else mattered except ensuring you were taken care of. His broad shoulders, the way his muscles flexed beneath his shirt as he worked—it was such a simple, domestic act, yet it was everything you needed.

You stared at his back, feeling the weight of your emotions settle in. It wasn't the grand gestures, the riches or the power that kept you here. It was moments like this—when Heeseung, despite his cold exterior, silently understood your brokenness and tried, in his way, to piece you back together.

Your heart still ached, your mind still swirling with memories of a past you could never change. But as Heeseung crept into the kitchen, preparing something small, something warm, you realized that maybe—just maybe—you didn't have to carry it all alone. At least, not at this moment.

And that was enough.

When Heeseung finished cooking, he turned back to you with a quiet softness in his eyes. He didn't need to say anything; his actions had already spoken louder than any words ever could. He held a simple plate of food, something warm and comforting. He approached you slowly as if afraid he might break the delicate quiet that hung between you both.

You didn't resist as he set the plate beside you on the counter. He gently took a forkful of the food, bringing it to your lips. You opened your mouth, letting him feed you, your movements slow and careful, as though the weight of everything that had happened left you drained of all your strength.

This was how he loved you. In the quiet moments where words fell short, he loved you through his touch, presence, and the gentle way he cared for you when everything else crumbled around you.

Heeseung wiped at your cheeks again as a stray tear fell. His thumb brushed over your tender and warm skin as he fed you bite by bite. Every time you looked into his eyes, you saw something that no one else ever did—vulnerability, concern, love, even if he didn't always know how to show it.

You let him do whatever he wanted, let him take control in this moment, because it was the only time you felt like everything was going to be okay—as long as he was here, by your side. You didn't need grand gestures or declarations of love. This was enough. He was enough.

Another tear slipped down your cheek, and again, Heeseung wiped it away without hesitation, his gaze never leaving yours. "You don't need to hold everything in," he said softly, his voice low, almost a whisper. "Not with me."
You didn't respond. Instead, you leaned into his touch, the food forgotten for a moment as you closed your eyes, letting the warmth of his palm on your skin remind you that there was still light even in the darkest moments. 

Heeseung continued to feed you, slow and patient, wiping away each tear as it fell. His presence was steady and unwavering, and for once, you felt like you could let go, even if just a little. Because as long as he was with you, the world outside didn't seem so unbearable.

When you finished eating, Heeseung took the plate from your hands and set it aside before preparing his own. He didn't move from his spot between your legs, his broad shoulders still taking up the space, as if he needed to be close to you. The kitchen was quiet, filled only with the sound of him picking up his fork and beginning to eat. 

As he stood there, you let your gaze fall on him, tracing the familiar lines of his face. The way his jaw clenched slightly when he chewed, the flicker of his lashes as he blinked, the quiet concentration as he ate—it was all so ordinary, yet, in this moment, it felt extraordinary to you.

You couldn't help but stare, your heart heavy yet filled with an undeniable warmth. Despite everything—the coldness, the distance, the argument that had fractured the air between you just the night before—you still looked at him the same way. With love. With endearment. With an unshakable feeling that he wasn't perfect, he was yours, and you were his.

Heeseung paused mid-bite, his fork hovering near his mouth as he noticed your gaze. His eyes flicked to yours, and for a second, you saw a brief flicker of surprise and uncertainty. He wasn't used to being looked at like this, especially not after the way he'd shut you out, after the cold walls he'd built between you. Yet here you were, looking at him as if he were the only thing that mattered.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" he asked quietly, his voice barely above a murmur, as though he didn't trust himself to ask the question too loudly.

You didn't say anything at first. You just smiled—a small, fragile thing—but genuine, filled with all the love you held for him despite everything. "Because I love you," you whispered, your voice soft but sure. "Even when it's hard... even when you make it difficult, I still love you."

Heeseung's fork lowered, his eyes searching yours for something—maybe disbelief, maybe understanding. He swallowed hard, his usual composed exterior cracking just a little. He didn't know how to respond. He never had the words for moments like this. But you could see it in his expression—how his gaze softened, and he blinked too quickly. 

He took a deep breath, setting his fork down on the counter beside you, his hands finding their way to your thighs, resting there, grounding himself in your warmth. "I don't deserve you," he muttered, his voice raw, as if the words pained him to admit.

But you shook your head, leaning forward slightly until your forehead rested against his, your breath mingling in the small space between you. "You don't have to be perfect," you whispered, closing your eyes. "Just... be here. With me."

Heeseung exhaled softly, his hands tightening just a fraction on your thighs as he let your words sink in. He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, lingering there for a moment as if trying to imprint the feel of you into his memory.

And for the first time in what felt like a long time, you both stayed like that, just being. No more walls, no more coldness—just the quiet understanding that, despite everything, you were still in this together.

ᴖ̈ ⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ ᴖ̈ ⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ ᴖ̈ ⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ ᴖ̈ ⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ ᴖ̈ ⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ ᴖ̈

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