Tired Lines; Soonhoon

20

☽

11:02 pm.

Soonyoung does not, in fact, taste cotton candy-sweet; he tastes like new, like every bit of adrenaline rushing between them, making Jihoon's lips tingle. He tastes a little like the vodka he drank earlier. Jihoon doesn't particularly like vodka, but he likes it like this.

He likes it, he does. He likes the way he can feel Soonyoung smile against his mouth, and he likes the way their foreheads press together even when their lips aren't touching anymore. He thinks that maybe, for once, he even likes the familiar feeling of a blush creeping up his neck, the tips of his ears burning.

"Can I crash at your place again?" he asks, swallowing past the rasp in his voice. Soonyoung's nod is adorably eager.

Jihoon reminds himself to text Mingyu as they leave the party.

11:45 pm.

They don't do anything. Nothing like that.

But Jihoon falls asleep under soft sheets with a head on his shoulder, and it's nice. He's content.

9:23 am.

He wakes up with a strong pair of arms wrapped around his torso and warm breath fanning his forehead, blowing stray wisps of hair out of his eyes. He's still content, even if he has a headache and wishes the sun would shut off for a few hours. Even if Soonyoung's hold is borderline strangling. It's sort of endearing, actually.

And he'll admire the sight of the boy sleeping. Soonyoung snores lightly, nose twitching every now and then. He mumbles soft thoughts, and Jihoon's heart lurches. He'll have to trust his memory to hold onto this and never let it go - he'll be angry with himself if he ever forgets the picture.

"Hey ... you're awake."

Soonyoung's mouth barely moves, the words coming out in one long, sleep-soaked syllable. Jihoon nods and tries to keep his grin from taking over his face completely when the boy yawns, pressing his face into his shoulder.

"How'd you sleep?"

"Good."

"How do you feel?"

" ... Good."

He feels good, in a strange way. It's an odd sort of good. Like, poetically peaceful and still, but he's also got a million bubbles in his stomach; they're multiplying at an alarming rate, flying up and up and making the back of his throat tickle. His head hurts, but the sight of Soonyoung is almost like a pain reliever in itself. He feels really, really good. 

They sit like that, both of them awake but neither one wanting to disturb the tranquility.

But then Soonyoung speaks, and it isn't disturbing in the slightest.

"Hey, Jihoonie?"

"Yeah?"

"What happened to that hoodie I let you borrow?"

"Uh."

Soonyoung moves his head to peer at Jihoon with laughing eyes, and the latter groans and repositions himself so that his face is buried in Soonyoung's chest. He's not sure when he got this confident, pressing himself closer to the material of the boy's shirt and listening to the low rumbling of a laugh. Maybe he's not confident, maybe he's stupid. Or he's just tired.