peach fireworks ━━ h.hj + k.sm

0.1

first person pov 13 - Seungmin

I'm crouched outside his window, watching in as he picks up his phone.

My phone buzzes four quick times, the ringtone he set when he was learning morse code.

.- .-- .- -.- . ?

awake?

.-- .. -. -.. --- .--

window

He looks up, finding me hiding in the tree.

"How long have you been here?" he laughs, opening the window.

"That's not how you're supposed to greet me."

He rolls his eyes, pulling me over the windowsill and onto his desk. And when he kisses me he's warm, his lips smiling and his hands light on my skin.

"You can roll your eyes all you want but I know you're happy to see me."

"Always," he hums, tucking my hair behind my ears.

"So how long were you sitting in the tree, you're making me nervous."

"I just got here. C'mon, have a little faith in me."

"It wouldn't be the first time," he giggles, stepping back so I can come fully into his room. There are boxes everywhere, littered across the floor and piled by the door. And the rest of the room is bare, like mine, all except for the photo wall.

He watches me look around, coming up to hug me from behind.

"I didn't want to take it down alone."

"Oh."

His chin is resting on my shoulder, looking up at me to gauge my reaction.

"Will you help me?"

I nod, not wanting to pull away.

"Yeah."

He squeezes his arms around me before he lets go, dragging me towards the wall with him.

When we put the wall together it was all pictures of him and Chris, sometimes all of them with Woojin too. I remember when we first met I spent so much time studying that wall, trying to learn his life before he moved. I had those pictures memorized.

Now all of his old pictures are buried under pictures of us at the skating rink, or movie theaters, the polaroids he keeps taking when I'm not looking. He keeps hitting my shoulder to show me the pictures, like we're both remembering.

"Are you taking them all?"

"I think so," he sighs, "if I figure out how to pack them."

"Plastic photo albums."

"What?"

"Photo albums," I laugh, "you know those ones your parents always keep? They come in smaller sizes, I've got dozens. I can bring them over tomorrow if you want."

"How is it that I'm still learning things about you?"

"I'm a man of intrigue. They're ugly, but they work."

"Okay. Thanks."

I nod, pulling the last picture off the wall. It's the one we took that first night, when I helped him paint. I'm thinner, dark hair and yet he's the same, smiling like he knew what was going to happen. I wonder if he did.

That's a stupid thing to wonder.

"What's that one?"

He looks over my shoulder, grabbing the picture.

"The first one of us," I say, watching him. He smiles, holding it into the light of the lamp. His room is so dark, it's later than I thought.

"Do you remember?" he laughs, "you were so quiet. Painfully quiet, I thought you hated me."

"A fact you point out at every possible moment," I sigh, fingering the sides of the picture. That was the first time we ever spent time together, the first time I'd ever found it easy to be with someone.

I look up to find him watching me, smiling it that obnoxious knowing way.

"You should take it."

"Really?"

"You obviously want it. And plus, I have all the other ones."

"Okay. Thank you."

He smiles, his teeth pulling at his lip.

"Good. Can you hand me another box? I don't know if I have one put together."

"You don't," I laugh, handing him a flat one.

"Damnit, I'm out of tape."

"I brought some extra."

"What?"

He frowns at me, surprised.

"I knew you'd forget to buy enough. It's on your dresser."

"You love me," he teases, getting up to find it.

I laugh, watching him struggle to put together the box.

"Of course I do."

_ _ _ _ _

not sure about updates on this book

happy one year with this account <3