he slips away quietly when he can't hold it anymore, when it aches in his chest and in the back of his throat, when it feels like it's about to burst. everything that has stayed bottled rises around people. why is that? he stands in an empty corner with his sleeves pulled up over his hands and pressed against his face and sobs as quietly as he can, trying to get it all out.
dongwoo comes trailing after him after a while, unknowing, expecting something else. sunwoo hears his shuffling steps, then two hands come from behind and pull the hood of his sweater up over his cap, knocking it down over his bangs.
"what's up?" dongwoo murmurs, leaning sideways to look at his face, smiling a wide gentle smile that doesn't go away when he sees sunwoo's wet cheeks.
sunwoo picks at his eyes. "just, you know," he says, voice hoarse, sounding composed. like this streaming water doesn't actually affect him much. like he could laugh a little. "one of those days."
then his face scrunches up again. dongwoo circles around and gathers him in a big hug, not even trying to take his hands away from his face, just holds the whole trembling package in his arms and lets sunwoo whimper without hushing him. his hand strokes slowly over sunwoo's neck through the fabric of the sweater.
sunwoo pushes hard, pulls every sob out of himself, raking and scratching his throat, stretching them till point of tearing, till he's heaving with missing breath. till he's spent and exhausted and resting his forehead against dongwoo's shoulder. till it's all out of him.
when his breathing has calmed, dongwoo unfolds and wipes sunwoo's cheeks with his thumbs. the smile is still stuck across his face, bright, playful almost, but not in a mean way and it doesn't make sunwoo angry.
Under the covers it is warm, socked feet slide under cotton sheets, knee knocks against knee with fabric in between, shoulder lies against shoulder and Dongwoo is breathing loudly as usual. The winter night has chilled the room, Sunwoo’s nose is cold when he touches it, he warms it between his fingertips, thinking about morning.
Winter morning sun lies right on then, it gets warmer than you’d think, warmer than winter night really lets you imagine. Sunwoo tends to wake up around six or seven, sticky and barely conscious and wring his clothes off, the socks and the sweats and the t-shirt that feels so good over his shoulders when falling asleep, where the blanket doesn’t really reach. He knows he’s gonna do it. It’s warm already, Dongwoo is warm beside him, it’s gonna get hot as balls around dawn.
Sunwoo lies on his back and eyes tenderly the ceiling and is filled with the thought of waking up to Dongwoo’s hot morning skin, the full naked chest, broad naked back, naked arm to his, soft to the touch but strong underneath. Wondering whether Dongwoo would still be asleep, how his hair would lie around him, over his face or down over his neck, if he’d face him or not, if his mouth would be closed or that tiny bit opened, whether it would all be so zoomed in and unavoidable so that Sunwoo would look at him and get that pain in his chest and in his lips that he can’t decide feels good or feels bad. Wonders if Dongwoo would wake up if he touched him. Just light morning hand over upper arm, over shoulder blade if turned to him, (if he’s daring – over chest.) If Dongwoo would smile through his thinning slumber. Or if Dongwoo would wake up and turn away.
You never know about those things.
Dongwoo hrms. “Goodnight, then.” He leans out and flicks the light off into darkness.
