out loud // starter for @bejaeyoung
siwoo, while never having had an artistic eye for interior design, does take some sort of pride in the way he's placed the things in his room. he's never been a maximalist, preferring to keep the decor of his room simple, with just the right amount of items room solidify his character as well.
black, white and brown, everything neatly arranged. books placed atop a table, candle warmer by his bedside and rows of cologne lined up nicely atop his dressing table. while siwoo's room is somewhat simple ( and may, or may not, scream money ) — it's cozy. at the very least, it is to him.
amongst the carefully curated items in his room, sits ( lies? ) a boy on his bed. but jay doesn't look out of place at all. if anything, siwoo thinks that jay's the only thing that truly belongs. his heart swells, but it isn't a feeling he's unfamiliar with anymore. jay looks pretty there, on his bed, but jay looks pretty anywhere, really. he stares for a moment, wanting to jump into bed with jay once more, but his body is still wet from his shower.
he walks towards his closet, and pulls out a white t-shirt to wear. it's the weekend, finally, and he doesn't need to spend it at the lime building, torturing his legs with choreography that would now haunt him in his sleep. he can spend it like this, with jay ( he wonders what it might feel like, to spend everyday like this with jay ).
once he's dressed, he sits next to jay, already missing his friend's ( ... friend's? ) warmth. "my feet feel fucking sore from practice all week," he says, stretching them just slightly. but he leans himself close to jay, and allows himself to bask in the simplicity of this moment. "but it's fun," he admits, having slowly built an affinity for dancing of all things.
he likes the feeling of jay so close to him, feels like a reward from having spent hours upon hours everyday practicing. "my grades are going to fucking slip though, urgh," time spent training, is also time spent away from actually studying, time that siwoo could spend pulling up his grades — maintaining his scores. he sighs, it's a problem he doesn't want to think about, but it is a problem nonetheless.
he glances over to jay, and instinctively, he begins patting the boy's head. "you look fucking comfy here," he laughs, but there's no malice in his voice, it's laced with affection instead – and siwoo's more or less made it fairly obvious that he wants jay to remain on his bed. jay's hair is soft, and siwoo's always liked that about it, has also always liked how they fell so perfectly against jay's face. "your hair's getting long — oh." he blinks, soon realizing what he's just done. he doesn't quite stop though, and instead awaits jay's reaction, prepares himself for a swat to his hand.