♔ — d e { c e m e } b e r
it’s early. he can tell by the way sunlight doesn’t flood in through the windows like usual. if it had been any other time, memories would’ve started to filter through his mind, a vague sense of satisfaction warming him from the inside out. somewhere in the depths of his brain, he’d be beyond pleased; they’d done well that year, and winning against other groups that had been in the game for far longer meant that they were still climbing that ladder, still making a name for themselves. this had been his dream all of ten years ago, and it still means the world that it’s actually happening now.
but here, presently, as he lies half-awake in bed, there are no sign of those thoughts. instead, the entirety of his focus is on him, the one with wild hair and long lashes and pink lips that make quiet noises as he sleeps. the sight brings a slow smile to his lips; in this moment, he’s at his happiest. in this moment, he’s both lost and gained his breath, because in this moment, baekhyun is soft, warm, almost ethereal, and he’s the most beautiful thing jongin thinks he’s ever seen.
he thought he’d been in love before, once upon a time, even though every moment of it had been horrible, had been like walking on some combination of glass and fire and eggshells; given the choice, he’d erase it completely from memory. now, though, while listening to deep, whispering breaths in the silence of the room, he realises that he never was. when baekhyun is at his side, it’s like he’s falling and flying, suffocating and drowning — burning, all at once, sparks something within him that makes him feel like he’s truly alive, and not simply living his life in motion. he makes everything truly worth living, like nothing he’s ever felt before, and even that is an understatement.
the truth is that if he were to lose this, he’d lose e v e r y t h i n g, because that’s what baekhyun is: e v e r y t h i n g. the air he breathes, each beat that pumps blood through his veins, that one thing that he sees, always, is baekhyun. a too-long moment of silence rings in his ears before another sound leaves the bundle of blankets. that slow, fond smile grows.
maybe it's too early, maybe he’s crazy, but jongin… jongin wouldn’t mind waking up to this every morning until his last breath.