suho is literally everywhere in whc2. he’s in the boy sleeping at the table in the back of sieun’s new classroom. he’s in gotak, teaching juntae to fight. he’s in baku’s touchiness and fierce protectiveness. he’s in juntae, who talks with his mouth full. he’s in the boxing ring sieun sits in the corner of in his dreams. he’s in sieun’s sleepless nights and his evenings at the hospital. in gotak and juntae’s persistent doorbell ringing that sieun hears from his bedroom, and the split-second spark of hope in his expression that it might be suho. he’s the driving force when the time comes for sieun to make a crucial decision—to help juntae, to refuse to fight at first, but then do it in the end still, to accept the boys’ friendship, to let fun and laughter into his life again, to wake up from his well-deserved sleep and go back to his friends and suho. he’s in the way sieun smiles differently around his new friends, and that familiar smile at the very end that he only saves for suho.
while the narrative keeps suho alive through these subtleties and implicities, sieun keeps his spirit alive explicitly. he goes to him, he talks to him, he writes to him, he lets himself be led and taught by him, despite his unconscious state. he’s still sieun’s best friend and his guiding light. he’s his heart and his home. he is all over whc2, and not as a ghost haunting the narrative, but as the soul of sieun’s story.
"Zewu-jun~". The words leave your lips as a pressing sigh echoes throughout the Hanshi's walls; his plush lips are warm and firm and steady as they crash against yours. A sturdy forearm pins itself perpendicularly to your fanned out hair on the silky sheets and Lan Xichen tactfully towers his sculpted figure over your smaller one.
The early dawn light that filters through the craved windows, casting an intricate shadow against his delicate, jade-like features. You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer, deepening the kiss. An abrupt bite on your delicate lips earns him a quick yelp followed by a dramatic whine on your part.
"L-Lan Xichen!" you whimper pathetically, tugging on his slender forehead ribbon. Long locks of ebony spill out of his usual hairdo as the ribbon loosens and becomes undone in your palms. They caress the angular edges of his face perfectly, and you think that he somehow looks even more handsome like this. It was as if the strands were hand-woven by the heavens for you to admire, his slender lips crafted to caress yours, and his safe arms to embrace your frail frame.
The atypically stoic man doesn't respond to the courtesy name and instead, his honeyed eyes simply darken with lust. Pulling away from the kiss, his heated mouth asserts itself above the corner of your lip before pressing a trail of open mouthed kisses along your jaw. Jolts of pain and pleasure wash over you as his canine teeth tug and nibble on your supple skin.
"A-Huan~". Once again, the hopeless mewls fall on to deaf ears. In a pitiful attempt to muffle the moans that threatened to spill, you scrunch the Gusu Lan forehead ribbon in your palm and thrust the fabric into your mouth.
Pinning your arms above your head, Lan Xichen sweetly squeezes your jaw open and extracts the sopping cloth. Clutching both your wrists, he expertly wraps the damp ribbon around them twice before firmly securing them in place with a harsh knot, and then, an elegant bow. Immediately, he continues to push against the soft surface of the bed as he shifts his assault on your neck. Crimson marks begin to adorn your lithe neck as his animalistic urges persist along the length of your nape. Shifting his lips to a new target, his scorching breath fans against to the untouched skin just above your collar and it becomes increasingly more difficult for you to keep your voice down.
"L-Lan G-gē gē," you stutter as you bite your lower lip in shame as those humiliating words leave your reddened lips.
"Yes my love?" he asks tenderly in contrast to the mildly obscene term, his warm breath against your ear ensuing a valley of goosebumps to erupt along your body.
"P-please s-stop teasing me," you plead in a drunken state, your whiny voice not even a fraction as convincing as you had intended it on being. You were a pitiful sight. The red marks littered throughout your slender neck were staring to bruise a deep purple. The deep rouge flush that bloomed from your checks swiftly spread across your features, from the tips of your ears to right under your collarbone. You, with your petite wrists tethered under his toned, looming build.
"Shushhh," he hushes dismissively with newfound amusement, and you can feel the corners of his slender lips on your earlobe curve upwards at your helpless request.
"Be good for dà gē and keep your voice down alright?"
Gently taking his black, coarse locks in your fingers, you weave a delicate braid on the young boy. He hums in pleasure as your nimble fingertips ever so slightly brush against his exposed nape, trailing along his star shaped birth mark. Long and sleepy eyelashes shut lightly, he licks his lower lip with a flick of his tongue as you section his hair further and work your way down, intertwining the 3 smaller strands and watch as your clumsy creation slowly comes to life.
Tenderly and securely fastening the braid with a baby blue butterfly clip, you draw a line with your index finger from the front of his hair line all the way to the base of his scalp. Another sound sound of satisfaction escapes the Joestar's lips; this time a shaky sigh. As you start working on the second half of his scalp, Josuke leans back into your tender touch, snuggling against your body. A lock of his sleek hair escapes your loose grasp while you were caught off guard by the affectionate gesture. You don't have any complains though. They frame the side of his face and softened his sharp and handsome features.
Determined to impress your boyfriend, you clip on the butterfly ornament with thorough precision. Signal your content with a sweet hum, you reach behind you for the hand mirror. Mirror in hand and your head placed securely at the junction where his muscular neck met his equally sculpted shoulder, you kneel in a comfortable position behind the boy as you admire his ethereal reflection.
"Is it ready?" he asks, and you close your eyes and bask in his husky voice resonating throughout your being as he speaks for the first time since you first started brushing your fingers through his hair 20 minutes ago.
"Wait not yet!" you blurt in a panic out as you realize your project was in fact still incomplete.
"M'k love, take your time," he mumbles in a sleepy daze and rests his head on your shoulder. You grab a handful of the colourful butterfly clips cluttered on Josuke's bedroom floor and clip them on to his hair in an asymmetrical manner. As you thought, the dainty butterfly clips that seem to be nesting on his hair brings it all together.
"You look amazing," you gush as you continue to admire his hair-do, to which Josuke responds with an eager chuckle.
"Alright, you can open your eyes now," you let him know as you strategically positing your hand mirror once again.
He cracks an eye open, a playful grin dancing on his slender lips as he admires your handiwork in the mirror.
"You should do my hair more often," he remarks before turning around and pulling your head towards his toned chest in an affectionate embrace.
"I'm glad you liked it," you say with a small smile against his warm body.
