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IN THE MORNING, everything feels hazy, like he hasn't truly woken up, but he's still dreaming.

And then he remembers Jihoon sleeping directly next to him, and his heart stutters into wide-awake action.

Jihoon is weirdly cuddly when he sleeps; when he's awake, he doesn't seem so touchy, but now he's hogged all the blankets to himself and Soonyoung is kept warm purely by the heat emanating off of his body. Jihoon's legs are all but wrapped around Soonyoung's, one hand shoved in the latter's face and the other strewn across his chest. Soonyoung's afraid that if he breathes too deeply, he'll wake Jihoon up.

Jihoon will probably be hungover from the night before. Soonyoung wants to get up and grab him some pain relievers, just in case, and go to make breakfast, but he doesn't know where the boy keeps his medicine and he's a terrible cook, so he stays put. He realizes that this instinct to get up and do what he can to take care of Jihoon - before Jihoon has even woken up - is coming from the flesh of his heart, and it's mushy and sentimental, and Soonyoung has a swallow a lump in his throat to get over it.

He doesn't move, but shifts his gaze to look at Jihoon out of the corner of his eye.

He finds that Jihoon is already looking at him.

Soonyoung jerks in surprise. "Jesus," he gasps, "when did you wake up?"

Jihoon doesn't answer right away. He's got his mouth hidden behind the blanket and his hair is falling into his eyes, which look clouded over with sleep. There's a flash of panic in Soonyoung.

"Wait, fuck, you remember me, don't you?"

Then, slowly, Jihoon moves the blanket away.

"'Course I remember you," he murmurs. "I wasn't that drunk. Sorry about that, by the way."

Soonyoung breathes an internal sigh of relief, the panic draining from him as quickly as it came. "Don't be sorry," he says.

"I am, anyway."

Soonyoung sighs out loud, this time, letting Jihoon's hands fall away from him as he sits up. He fell asleep in the same clothes he wore last night and he feels gross, sweaty and unkempt. Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, he says, "I need to shower, but before I do that, do you need anything?"

"No. Actually, answer one question for me."

"What is it?"

"Why'd you stay the night?" Jihoon sounds so innocent, genuinely wondering. "You could've gone home and gotten cleaned up and comfortable ... you didn't have to stay with me. I would've been fine."

Soonyoung tries to push down the flush creeping up his neck, but he can't stop it. "I ... uh, I couldn't be sure. For all I know, you could've thrown up or something in the middle of the night, and there would have been no one to help you out. I just didn't feel comfortable leaving you all on your own."

Jihoon's morning voice is so, so adorable. He talks with his lips barely parted, mumbling soft and quietly, and his eyes open just the tiniest bit to look at Soonyoung. He says, "You're like an angel," with irises that shine, and he says, "you popped into my life when I didn't think I needed anything else, but now I know that I would be very, very sad if you left." And because Soonyoung can't help his stupid self, he stays, sitting on the edge of the bed and holds Jihoon's eyes with his own.

"You think I'm like an angel?" he puffs out. Jihoon doesn't even shift from where he's laying.

"Yeah. If you had wings, they'd be small but really soft and strong. They'd probably smell nice, too." Soonyoung laughs lightly.

A Rose-Colored Dream; SoonhoonWhere stories live. Discover now