every morning // starter for @fatalmisery
hyunwoo doesn’t often sleep in, his body usually finely attuned to waking up at a specific time every morning. though as of late, that routine has been a little disrupted; not that hyunwoo minds at all. it’s an exchange of sort — in exchange for his disrupted sleep schedule, he wakes up to sungha in bed after a night of pushing the mattress to the limit (without getting into too much detail). he thinks it’s a pretty great exchange, he wakes up to a warmth in his arms that he’s grown accustomed to, this particular warmth, and odd feeling in his chest that he’d rather choose to ignore.
this morning is a little different though. as hyunwoo stirs in his sleep, eyelids slowly opening he realizes that something is missing. there’s a lack of warmth on the left side of his bed. “sungha…?” he calls out, voice a little hoarse after all the noise he’d made the night before — it’s almost a miracle that he hasn’t gotten a noise complaint yet. there’s no answer, and so he calls out for the boy once more, “… hey, sungha…?” fuck, he really needs to get a drink.
he decides to do just that. reaching out for a pair of boxers and sweatpants before slipping it on. he can’t stop thinking about where sungha might be though, he usually wakes up to sungha by his side; it’s empty without him. sungha wouldn’t have run off, right? judging by how everything’s been going on between them so far, hyunwoo thinks sungha has no reason to run from him.
sure, hyunwoo hasn’t been the most vocal about his feelings, or at the very least the most explicit about them, whatever they may be, but would that be enough for sungha to run away? he’d told sungha to trust him before — did sungha stop? was he finally tired of hyunwoo?
his brain spirals as it usually does, before he’s hit with a sight so surreal that he thinks he stops breathing for a good few minutes. sungha is there, wearing nothing but hyunwoo’s sweater and a pair of boxers. hyunwoo’s sweater. hyunwoo’s sweater. hyunwoo’s sweater. “my sweater, fuck,” hyunwoo thinks.
as if that alone isn’t enough to send hyunwoo into a crazy train of thought that would be better off not being shared with the public, sungha’s setting up the food he’d ordered for them. sungha’s ordered food for them. while dressed in hyunwoo’s clothes. what the fuck.
what the fuck?
“what the fuck,” hyunwoo’s brain feels like it’s about to explode. “i need to marry this fucking guy.” he blinks. huh. did that thought really just cross his mind.
he thinks nothing of it, or attempts to, and walks over to sungha before kissing his neck. “you didn’t wake me up,” he says, and he hugs sungha from the back, as though he’d been separated from him for years. “i thought you left,” he continues, and though his tone is lighthearted, there’s a hint of truth in his voice.
“what did you order us for breakfast?” he asks, finally pulling away and kissing sungha’s cheek. “it’s almost like we’re married.”
