taesan does not like mornings. to him, nothing is amusing about light that seems to intrude, the sound of his alarm, the empty spot next to him some mornings, as you– most definitely are a morning person. like.. the makeup done, hair already up, in the kitchen by 7 kind.
"agave, 30-20-10, cold foam on top," you mumble to yourself, quietly rehearsing the mental checklist of how you and him like your matchas. as you pour out the cold foam, topping off your drinks, you suddenly feel two hands sneak around your sides, wrapping around to meet at your stomach, then resting there. your boyfriend tends to be silent during his early hours, claiming he simply doesn't form any valuable words at such time of day. still, he doesn't say anything before pulling you closer until his chest embraces your back, head drooping lower, chin now rested on your shoulder.
"good morning baby, are you still so tired?"
you can't help but coo at taesan, whos eyes are now shut, lips formed in a subtle pout. as your hand reaches up to ruffle through his hair, you slightly lower yourself and escape from his hold, turning your body to face him. he doesn't move. just stands there, eyes barely open, hands now dropped at his sides. gently reaching up again to hold his face, you bring him slightly lower so you can press a kiss to his forehead. early mornings like these always leave taesan soft and compliant, easier to the touch and rather more wanting. he lets out a sleepy sigh, hand coming up to rub his face. half asleep, a little dumbfounded– but still satisfied by the sudden affection; his eyes struggle to open as you happily skip away to enjoy the rest of your morning.
your backpack repeatedly shoves against the side of the seat on the bus. there’s loud voices trailing around every corner of the bus you're on; a harmony you’d rather not hear- a mix of third graders, young interns, and reckless teenagers. the sun is peaking through the window aiming straight for your eyes. tires screech. the bus leaves for the next stop. the aggressive turn has the bodies in front nearly flying right towards you, so taesan swiftly reaches for the overhead handle whilst turning the angle of his body; now face to face with you. such simple actions often occurs within your relationship. you know he's doing this to form a safe spot for you, shielding you from any possible harm. but would it be taesan if he'd ever admit that out loud? chin tilting up, eyes now stuck to the ceiling of the bus, he hopes it's not too obvious he'd give up all of him to protect over all of you. his back is now turnt to the rest of the people on the bus, occasionally receiving a slight shove whilst others scramble out the door at their stop.
his eyes slowly roam back down, skimming over every inch of your face, scanning for signs of discomfort or need. when your hand scurries to grab at the fabric of his sleeve, he immediately steps closer, bending down a bit and leaning in to listen to you tell him whats wrong. most of the times he doesn't expect you to actually say anything; he understands that pulling the distance just a little tighter can tune out your worries and weariness. that sometimes you just need his attention to rush over you, flooding out every sound you wish to mute.
"maybe she's just jealous of me. i caught my hair glistening today before i left the house, you think thats why shes so mean and awful and outright rude to me? it has to be!!" you squeal. its past midnight. the streetlights seem to glimmer, the sounds of busy bars strum through the city and surround the two of you as you make your way home from a work party that ended.. rather upsettingly.
"i think you're right, my love," taesan chuckles.
maybe the liquor chose not to sit well with you tonight, or the eventful evening has driven you delirious. but the way your boyfriend holds you in his arms- bridal style of course, makes you dizzy to the head. somehow, he's managing to carry you, your heels, and bag just fine, steadily and safely bringing you home. his hold on you firm, yet gentle. taesan has a way of handling you when your under the influence. you're still his open, bravely spoken and bubbly girl, but under such circumstances it's important to him that you're always within reach. whether it be a finger hooked on your belt loop or a hand on your thigh, its crucial that he always knows where you are. your head slumps backwards, landing on his arm, before slowly slouching to the side, resting against his chest with a sigh.
you don't speak. you open one eye, attempting to sneak a glance up at his face.. before quickly shutting it again after getting caught by him. you don't need to look up again to know the smirk he has spread across his face.
you don't speak. but you do wonder how many lifetimes you'll spend searching for such love again.
june 30 / wild and fluorescent, come home to my heart
