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For an endless, disorienting moment, there is only the roar of blood pressing in on his skull and his heartbeat crawling up his throat.
In a slow smear of bleary grappling, Sieun realizes he’s just jolted awake. That the spike of adrenaline throbbing through his limbs doesn’t mean the images pasted beneath his eyelids are real. His body stays locked up until the thrum of his pulse lessens enough for him to register the distilled quiet. Hesitantly, he relaxes. Listens some more, trying to convince himself of where he is. It’s quiet, but not silent; there’s movement coming from beyond the bedroom door.
Sieun sits up. He doesn’t need to squint or wave his arm out to know that Suho is no longer in bed with him. Suho’s body seeks his out even in sleep, but there wasn’t a leg tucked between his own or an arm over his waist or a forehead digging into his shoulder blade. So Sieun takes stock of what he knows is true: Suho is safe. Suho is just outside their room. Suho is either working out in the living room or doing his stretches on the floor or making breakfast. Suho is not hurt.
The dream, however, grips Sieun, unrelenting. Keeps him captive by influence of the scene his fucking brain decided to conjure up with Suho- Suho-
Sieun cannot shake it.
His legs get momentarily caught up in the sheet- the sheet that wasn’t covering him last night. Suho must’ve pulled it over him when he got up. Sieun’s heart is reaching out past the door. He needs to see him. Needs to be sure. He does not deny himself these things anymore.
Pulling the door open just enough to stick his head out, hand still on the doorknob, Sieun is whole again. Suho’s back is to him. He’s busy cooking over the stovetop. His movements are calm, leisurely. Entirely at ease. Sieun rests the side of his head against the cool wood for just a moment, trying to will the picture of Suho in their kitchen- perfectly safe and healthy and content- to flush away the one of Suho crumpled in a heap with his face busted in, a laceration so deep across his chest that-
Sieun forces himself back into the room and the connecting bathroom to brush his teeth, shower, change. Only once he’s ready for work does he go out to Suho. Suho will know what’s happened and Suho will make it better, but he typically doesn’t have a time limitation for that and they do need to make it to their respective jobs.
Suho turns over his shoulder at the sound of Sieun’s footsteps. He gives a light gasp like he’s never seen Sieun before. Ridiculous. Suho’s parted mouth cracks into a grin and Sieun's heart surges.
Suho’s here. Breathing. Safe. At ease. At home.
Sieun fits himself into Suho’s side, resting his head in the crook of Suho’s neck and shoulder, arms wrapping snuggly around his torso. Suho hugs him back immediately, of course, instinctively welcoming Sieun into his space, but it takes another beat for him to catch on. His touch becomes more firm when he does, one arm tightening around Sieun’s shoulders, ushering him closer, the other hand rubbing up and down his upper arm.
Suho sighs into his hair, then shifts to ghost a kiss against Sieun’s temple. It has Sieun closing his eyes, dreading the day ahead.
“I turned off your alarm,” Suho says. “You were up really late, hm?”
Sieun gives a noncommittal nod. He was grading at the kitchen table under the low light until well after two. Suho nags that he’ll hurt his eyes like that, but Sieun still hasn’t made the change to grade elsewhere. Routine, and all that.
In highschool, Sieun would have flipped his shit at anyone who turned off the alarm to start his day. The loss of that control solely due to someone else’s decision on his behalf would not have been something he took lightly.
But Sieun didn’t have anyone like that before Suho, and as it is now, Sieun’s chest warms. It’s a part of the vulnerability Sieun had to be taught is okay- is good- when he and Suho got together. Letting Suho have a great deal of involvement in Sieun’s well being is one of the most precious comforts of Sieun’s life. Suho has never once disappointed Sieun in taking care of him, and Sieun can only love him and live him and breathe him and hope he can return even a fraction of that steadfastness to him.
“My Sieun-ah,” Suho says. “Always working so hard.”
Suho hasn’t changed into the restaurant uniform yet, so Sieun has access to press a kiss to his bare collarbone where his shirt has been rucked over. He shifts his hands to Suho’s waist to turn- literally turn- his attention back to the food. They transfer the plates to the table, Suho nuzzling into the back of Sieun’s neck before they sit.
Sieun doesn’t feel even an ounce of shame in yanking his chair far closer to Suho’s than usual. Suho gives him a tender look and bunts his own over so the seats are flush together. Their arms and legs touch. Sieun soaks it in like he’s been trapped in an eternal winter and Suho’s the sun.
They eat. After finishing his first plate, Suho tucks his hand around the inside of Sieun’s thigh, squeezing every so often. Not charged in any way, as it certainly can be when Suho feels like being a little shit and Sieun feels like pretending he doesn’t want to entertain it. Just there.
It’s only when Suho reaches for the serving plate in front of Sieun that Sieun remembers- in the dream, that unblemished hand was mangled at the joints like it’d been crushed. Suho’s hands. The breath hitching in Sieun’s throat hardly makes a sound, but his chopsticks pause midair and Suho freezes.
Needlessly, Sieun rasps, “Suho.” Suho is already looking at him.
“Sieun.” An intonation, a return. His voice is warmth in a rippling wave, sinking into Sieun’s veins.
Suho’s ability to understand Sieun, regardless of if Sieun spells things out for him or not, has been present since the near beginning. Certainly since Sieun took Suho’s place to protect him on his birthday, which gave way to being protected in return once Suho came to his door. Once Suho looked him in the eye and instantly knew everything Sieun was trying to keep from him.
Sieun covets this intrinsic piece of Suho that leads him to care unabashedly for those he feels deserve it. Keeping it huddled close to his heart, Sieun watches over it with fervent attentiveness, not only to ensure Suho is not taken advantage of, but because it’s one of the qualities that drew Sieun to him in the first place, back when Sieun knew nothing but emptiness and vying for useless gratification in accomplishment.
“It’ll be a bad one,” Sieun tells him. Today, he means. He can feel that age-old itch to not let Suho out of his goddamn sight tugging at his skin, yanking all the edges of his sanity tight, tight. Soon, he’ll be nothing but rigid edges and paranoia.
He was a turbulent wreck in the months following Suho waking up. Baku, Gotak, Juntae- they certainly helped soften his reckless abandon for any concern other than Suho in the absence of him, but Suho awake and moving and talking stiffened that resolve once more. Suho couldn’t get hurt again. Suho was too bright a light to be snuffed out for such a worthless motive as someone’s misplaced anger again. Suho was too young, Suho had been so alone before Sieun too, Suho had it all ripped away from him, Suho had so much life to live-
And they’d stolen nearly two years of it. Anger channeled itself into every aspect of Sieun’s routine. Made him sharp. Made him alert. It replaced fatigue, was a supplement for his meals.
He was stubbornly, unfalteringly by Suho’s side every day leading up to his discharge, skipping school and screening his mom’s handful of calls until she gave up. Curling his fingers into the bedsheet while Suho napped, eyeing the rise and fall of his chest. Wheeling him to the bathroom, through the hallways, outside. Turning to check who was entering the room every time the heavy door slid open.
Pens lined the pockets of Sieun’s pants and sweatshirts. Seongjae was unaccounted for and Sieun was a live wire. He watched for anyone who so much as looked at Suho a moment too long. Suho noticed, maybe, but back then they still weren’t airing things out. It was all dark eyed exchanges and brief touches and at the time, it was enough.
After discharge came the first leg of Suho’s home recovery. It was horrible. Suho was discouraged by his crutches and shaking arms and unsteady legs and trying not to show it for his grandma’s sake. For Sieun’s. Splitting headaches were plaguing him every other day, his mind was often muddled, and talking, maneuvering in the same flat he’d shared with grandma for many years, and showering were all just a touch shy of absolutely impossible. He was exhausted and scared, grasping at thin strands of hope. Sieun couldn’t bear to be apart from him, to leave him to navigate a single segment of it alone.
So he spent the night on Suho and grandma’s living room couch for the first two weeks after Suho’s return home. Suho tried to get him to stay in his room with him, but Sieun was so mortified by the way he’d flushed when Suho first suggested it- at the concept of laying in bed next to him- that he vehemently refused. He’d wanted it too badly. Craved it like nothing else. He kept dodging until Suho gave it a rest by the sixth night. Sieun just had to be semi-close. He spent every night of those two weeks staring at the front door.
After that, the feeling that there was a threat looming at every turn to take Suho away again didn’t lessen, but it did shift. Into a different kind of sleepless night. Into the way Sieun looked after him, on a crowded street or in Suho’s apartment alike. Into the way Sieun didn’t squander a single second he had with him, greedy with it, grappling.
Naturally, Suho eventually cornered him and asked him why the fuck he was trudging around like some zombie-guard dog hybrid and because he’s a relentless asshole, he asked enough questions until he read by Sieun’s reactions that Sieun’s sleeping schedule was practically nonexistent and his anxiety regarding Suho’s safety was destroying his ability to function.
Sleeping in the same bed (the first time Suho tucked his arm around Sieun’s waist, Sieun realized enduring any amount of embarrassment in regard to his hot face and trembling hands was worth having Suho that near to him) was the main adjustment that helped Sieun get some true rest. Several months of falling asleep and waking up together, and they’d both had enough of pretending what they’d always had wasn’t there. Suho drug it out of hiding with his words- careful, stilted, sure- and Sieun swayed forward and kissed him.
This new layer of their relationship opened conversation, silence. The past, which they hadn’t dared to so much as mention yet. Regrets of said past. Forgiveness for things neither of them held against the other. Confessions, sweet and scalding. The burn of Suho’s gaze, reverent, the heat of his touch in some settings and the tenderness of it in others. Sieun’s outlook on life was altered again. Things became easier. Manageable.
Days where something relatively small knocks Sieun entirely off course are rare now, but entirely disruptive when they arrive unannounced. Sieun’s been spoiled by their golden life. When darkness creeps in, it seeps into his heart, rattling him to his core.
Suho takes it in stride. He’s abandoned his food, the hand not cupping Sieun’s leg coming up to Sieun’s cheek to ease him into a kiss. Soft and branding. A whisper. A promise.
“Okay,” Suho says, which means, We’ll take care of it. Which means, It will be okay.
He shifts back to look at Sieun. To really look. He skates his thumb under Sieun’s eye. “Memory or dream?”
He always, always knows when Sieun’s had a nightmare. Has told him he can see the weight of it in Sieun’s eyes, in the strain of his shoulders. Like there’s a glaring pit in his very soul.
The images arise in Sieun’s mind, provoked. It’d been so real.
“Dream. In some sort of warehouse. It was dark, but I could tell that your face…” Sieun doesn’t say that part. It’s too close to a reality Suho’s already survived. “Your hands were crushed. All fucked at the joints like the bones were broken. And- a cut on your chest. Deep. Blood everywhere, all fucking over you. I-” Sieun chokes on redirected grief- “I couldn’t feel your pulse.”
When Suho tugs him to the couch, he lays down on his back so he can drape Sieun on top of him. So Sieun can press his ear to Suho’s chest, over his heart. It’s good. Exactly what Sieun needed, without a doubt. Suho’s heartbeat is stable and strong. Sieun listens intently, internalizing it. Telling himself he can do this.
“What’s true?” Suho asks him. Surely only a few minutes have passed, but that means time’s almost up.
Sieun needs to get to school. His first tutoring session is at eight, and he’ll be late if he gets caught in morning traffic. Suho needs to get to the restaurant. The woman who owns it, Bitna, leads the institute like someone’s life is on the line, and though Suho has gotten under her skin and she’s fond enough of him now that she’s allowed him a place in the kitchen, she doesn’t condone tardiness.
Sieun feels like a wet rag, trying to rally. But he can do this. He can.
Suho sits up, Sieun’s legs bracketing his hips to accommodate for the shift. Resting his forearms on Suho’s shoulders, Sieun cards his fingers into the hair at the nape of Suho's neck. It’s getting long enough that Sieun can curl his hands in it, which he likes. A lot. He told him (then showed him) just how much a few days ago. Sieun did get stuck in traffic and Suho rushed into Bitna’s at 8:36 instead of 8:30. She yelled at him for five minutes. They can’t have that again.
Pressing his forehead to Sieun’s, Suho murmurs, “Baby.” Sieun jolts. Again, Suho prompts, “Tell me what’s true.”
Sieun weighs what he knows against what he feels. “You’re safe,” is what he lands on. The concrete fact they circle back to, when needed. Their reminder.
“That’s right. And you’re safe too. No one’s after us. They’re cities away where we left them, or rotting in fucking jail, yeah?”
Sieun swallows. Remains still.
“Hey.” A nudge beneath his ribs. That makes Sieun want to scowl, but he just looks at Suho properly instead. A beat. Then, Suho starts to grin. “What else is true?”
Sieun does huff now, knowing what Suho’s fishing for. He nearly rolls his eyes too, but gets a handle on that since Suho would have too much fun with it. “I need to go.”
As he makes to stand, Suho swings his legs from the couch to the floor and rises with Sieun still held up in his arms.
“Suho,” Sieun deadpans, even as his knees settle, hooked around Suho’s waist.
“Yeah?”
“Put me down.”
“Ah, no thanks. I’d prefer to carry you to the door.”
He only gets one step in before Sieun uses his grip on Suho’s hair to wrench his head back. Abruptly, Suho ceases all movement, his eyes fluttering to slits, his mouth parting. Sieun uses his leverage on Suho’s chest to slot their lips together. Suho won’t drop him.
“Yah,” he warns, pitched low.
Suho, damn him, recovers quickly. Adds the effort it takes to be a proper kiss. Sieun loosens his fingers, stroking the back of Suho’s neck, sighing into him. He can do this. He can do this.
“What else is true?” Suho repeats. He’s a touch breathless, a dog with a bone; he doesn’t know how to give things up. Sieun does not enjoy denying him much of anything. Not when it matters. He answers him.
“You love me.”
Suho eases him back on his feet, pats his ass. “Right again.” Voice soft. Lovely. Tinting a teasing color: “Smartie.”
“Fucker,” Sieun grumbles, swiveling for the door. Suho trots along, trailing right behind him.
“Thought you said we didn’t have time. Sieun-ah, I know you like it when I hold you like that. I know you love it,” he croons. They’re in the entryway now, the motion sensor light flicking on overhead. “It makes you-”
Sieun flings a foot back at Suho without sparing him a glance. A satisfactory yelp is the end to that. Sieun bends to pull his shoes on, but only finishes with one before Suho’s kneeling and shooing his hands away to do the other for him. Sieun straightens up, waits until he’s done. Then, kneels down himself, taking Suho’s jaw in his hands.
This face, once slack with unconsciousness for so, so long. The rawness of that memory will never leave Sieun. It’s the ghost of his thoughts, clinging to him in an effort to be remembered, experienced, relived any chance it gets. But Sieun will never forget. It’s why Sieun fought so hard to keep Suho out of harm’s way, even when his hospital door remained shut on the days grandma couldn’t visit and the breathing machine clicked through its rounds, on and on and on. It’s why Sieun felt so sorry every time he broke a promise he made to Suho. It’s why reminding himself that Suho’s safe and at ease is so detrimental to days like this.
“I love you,” he says quietly.
Years of having this, and Suho still gapes at him when Sieun catches him off guard.
“Sieun-ah,” Suho says weakly, punched out. Sieun bites down on a smile. Suho makes a croaking sound and tackles him in a hug. Sieun’s ass is on the floor and Suho is practically in his lap and he’s such a fool that it makes Sieun laugh, stark and short. That is not helpful in convincing Suho to let go of him either, but Sieun manages by reluctantly reminding him of the time.
“I’ll keep my phone on,” Suho says as Sieun pushes the door open. “Ringer all the way up. Text in between sessions if you need to. Or call. I’ll answer.”
“I know.” Sieun’s gripping the bottom hem of Suho’s shirt in his fist; he desperately doesn’t want to let go. To leave. He would’ve keeled over at such a display from himself a few years ago. He leans forward to peck the corner of Suho’s mouth. “See you tonight.”
“We’ve got that big order, so I’ll be back late. Don’t stay up, okay?”
Sieun glares at him. Suho smiles, soft and a little sad. He briefly lifts a hand, only the middle three fingers raised. Such a fool.
“I redact that. See you tonight.”
He’s dazzling. Filling out the space of the doorway with his broad shoulders, his presence, the effortless strength he fought so hard to earn back. So fucking beautiful. Sieun’s eyes sting. He only half-blinks, wants to look at him as long as he can. Wants to stay. Wants to stay with him, wants-
Chest aching, Sieun starts to go. Suho drags him back one last time, kissing him so soundly Sieun’s head bumps against the door.
“I love you,” Suho stage whispers, his loudest, worst kept secret. He sends Sieun off with a beaming smile. Uses his hip to prop the door open and waves over his head until Sieun slips beneath the landing leading down to the car garage.
Ahn Suho: radiant. Sieun’s entire life.
›
In a cruel repetition of the morning, Sieun wakes having to work through a skewed reality. Once he’s established where he is, he recognizes the papers he’d been grading before he fell asleep laid out under his crossed arms.
It’s unusual for Sieun to have this much work to review at home, but the end of the first semester is nearing and all his students are required to take exams to see if they are eligible to test out of additional tutoring. A fair portion of the kids Sieun helps have learning disabilities, but a few have behavioural issues and struggle with conforming to a classroom setting where their tempers are easily goaded. It’s hard but honest work. Sometimes a ridiculously clear reflection of a past version of Sieun himself.
Sieun moves forward in his chair, craning his neck at the entryway, but Suho’s things are still missing. He checks his phone, swallowing thickly. No new texts. His gut reaction following the harrowing tone the morning set is a blinding strike of sickening dread, but Sieun fights valiantly to reassure himself. He reminds himself that true to his word, Suho promptly answered anytime he reached out all day long.
In fact, Sieun had arrived at school to three selfies from Suho getting progressively closer to his face and a string of crying emojis saying he missed Sieun already. They texted in between Sieun’s tutoring sessions all morning, and then talked on the phone during Sieun’s lunch break until Bitna hollered in the background for Suho to get back to work. Not without saying a clipped hello to Sieun first though, without even asking Suho if that’s who he was talking to.
After the last session finished at five, Sieun picked up dinner and took it to Bitna’s. Suho has a horrible habit of getting so caught up in preparation for big orders that he doesn’t set aside time to make food for himself. Bitna scolds him for it, apparently, telling him he quite literally has the means to take care of that problem right at his fingertips. But Suho gets in the zone and doesn’t think about it, which is admittedly a habit of Sieun’s as well. Thus, dropping off food Suho didn’t need to prepare.
Sieun hadn’t even gotten to ask Bitna’s granddaughter, who works the front of the restaurant, if Suho had a second to spare. She winced apologetically when she saw Sieun and explained that the event they were catering for added a dozen portion sizes onto the original order at the last minute and everyone in the kitchen was scrambling to cover it. Sieun understood. He really did, even if the horrid lump in his throat at the prospect of Suho being a room away but unable to see him made it difficult for him to say anything of substance to Bitna’s granddaughter.
He’d come home, scraped together his own dinner and settled in to grade. Suho called about an hour and a half into that, Sieun snatching his phone up without a sliver of grace.
“Suho-yah,” he’d breathed.
“Sieun-ah!”
“Got away for a second?”
“Yeah. Smoke break.”
“You don’t smoke.”
“Bitna doesn’t know that.”
Sieun snorted. “She’ll catch your ass.”
“Nah.” Sieun could hear the smile shaping Suho’s words. “There’s a sweet old lady under that tough skin of hers. She likes me too much to get mad at me." The other day is a testament to that not being true, but Sieun didn’t bother bringing that up. “She asked about you again today!”
Sieun smiled to himself a little.
“Crazy, right? I was slicing cabbage and she suddenly asked how ‘that boy of yours’ is doing. Cute as shit. Almost dropped the knife.”
“Scared you?”
“Oh, not at all. I’m telling you, Sieun-ah, she’s an angel, just like you. I was just excited to talk about you.”
Fuck. What the fuck, Sieun had thought helplessly. “Suho.”
“Sieun.” Matching his tone. Silly little voice. Sieun’s heart, his love.
“I miss you.”
There was a pause. When Suho spoke again, he’d released the lightheartedness, going all soft. “I miss you too. Just a little longer, yeah? Few hours at the very most. I’ll be leaving for the delivery in a while.”
“Okay.”
Suho’s breath, steady over the phone. Sieun had closed his eyes, determined to block everything else out. To have Suho be his only focus. Sieun’s surroundings seemed to halt, following suit.
“Baby.”
Sieun hummed in question, a gentle flush of delight rolling down his spine at Suho’s attentive voice.
“How are you?”
It took Sieun longer than he would’ve liked to respond.
“I’m fine.”
He wasn’t lying. These days when he wanted Suho in his sight at all times were always shit, but nothing catastrophic had happened. Everything was going to be alright. There was silence from Suho on the other line for a moment, just a muffled scratching sound like he was idly kicking gravel under his feet. Worried, eager to get home. The visual made sense in Sieun’s head. Comforting. Larger than life.
“I know you are,” Suho had finally said. “Overall. But you were pretty shaken up this morning. I’m sure today’s been hard on you.”
Sieun’s breathing pattern changed enough for Suho to notice.
“Hey,” Suho called gently. “Talk to me.”
“Sorry.” That’s when Sieun laid his head down, ignoring the uncomfortable pull in his back to rest on an arm, the other folded up to keep the phone pressed to his ear. “Fucking miss you.”
Suho groaned, lamenting, “Yeon Sieun, you can’t bare your heart to me like that while I’m on the clock. I’m saving up for our life together and we’re gonna be in trouble if I come home every time I miss you. Huh? I’d never work! Not a single fucking day!”
The puff of air that’d escaped Sieun’s nose fluttered his paperwork. “I’ll provide for you.”
Suho genuinely sounded like he was in pain then. Bitna’s voice shouting from a distance ultimately kept him from responding besides that. The woman was definitely on his ass about the smoke break thing.
“Yes ma’am, I’ll be right- was that your shoe? Sieun-ah, I’ve gotta go. Take a nap, baby, I’ll be home before you know it, alright?” What Sieun could only assume was the back door scraping open and the sounds of the kitchen growing louder by the second filtered in. “Ah, shit- wait, thank you for dinner! I’m sorry I didn’t get to say hi to you!”
“It’s okay. You ate it?”
“Yes, my love.”
“All of it?”
“... I’ll finish it before I leave!”
Hearing Suho in good spirits was obviously enough to reduce Sieun’s nerves; he fell asleep right over his work not long after they hung up. Sieun wishes he had caught himself dozing. Wishes he’d stopped it.
The dream was the arc of a desolate classroom, once drenched in sunset orange. The desks at the back of the room weren’t pushed together as a makeshift bed. Everything was off. Sieun went to the sliding door, but it wouldn’t budge on the track when he tried to open it. His dream hand sluggishly tugged and tugged until he realized it wasn’t a sliding door at all, but one with a handle.
Suho was standing in the hallway outside his apartment upon turning it, hands in the pockets of his red windbreaker. He spoke, but Sieun couldn’t make out the words, couldn’t answer him. Couldn’t follow him as he stalked away.
When he finally broke through the sludge cementing his feet to the ground, he fell right through the pavement, landing in the middle of the ring. Suho wasn’t there, of course. Suho was never there when that horrible place showed up in Sieun’s subconscious. When he’d been having the dream more frequently, Suho was still laid out in his hospital bed.
Sieun props his elbows on the table and puts his face in his hands. Not real. Not anymore. Suho’s safe. Suho’s at work. He’ll be home soon.
He waits twelve minutes. Shakes out the arm that’d fallen asleep, pretends to mark his papers. Then, decides to call him. The event location was about half an hour from Bitna’s, according to what Suho told him. The delivery itself never takes more than fifteen minutes to set up. With Sieun’s impromptu nap behind him, Suho is surely finished up with work now, if not almost back.
The phone doesn’t even ring once, the words, The number you have dialed is currently unavailable, bouncing around Sieun’s skull.
The apartment tilts. When Sieun can see again, he’s lost his hold on his phone and he’s half bent over his lap, turned sideways in the chair. He blinks hard, pushes himself up. Legs shaking. A lead hand accidentally swipes his notebook clean off the table.
Suho’s fine. His phone died. That’s all, and Sieun knows it. But he’s just going to check. He’ll just check. Find him. It’s not even something Sieun must do- because Suho’s fine. Sieun simply wants to.
The floor is in the wrong place, then the wall in the hallway leading to the front door too, both coming to meet Sieun in spots they don’t belong. Sieun needs- shoes, car keys. Nothing else, not really. Not to go see him. He’s not sure how he’s going to find him if his location- fuck. He’ll start at Bitna’s. Fuck, something’s wrong with Sieun’s chest. He thumps his hand against his sternum, vision swaying. He just needs the keys and-
A subtle beeping cuts through the air. Familiar in its cadence. Sieun is suspended in time, but only for the second it takes Suho to yank the door open.
Suho. Gasping for breath, hair wind blown, face shiny under the luminescent light. Right there.
Relief is a roaring wave that crashes directly on Sieun’s head as their eyes lock. It’s overwhelming. Sieun lets out a piercing, violent sob. Suho dumps his bag in the entryway and crushes Sieun to his chest in a hug before the second round even cracks out of him.
Sieun can’t stop touching him, arms like vices around Suho’s shoulders, hands skating over his back, his head, his arms. There’s no blood, no bruises that Sieun can see at first glance. Suho doesn’t grunt in pain at Sieun’s frantic search or shirk away in discomfort. He seems to be alright, but the fear keeping Sieun’s mind captive, tormenting him, is so visceral. So similar to what Sieun felt the night he and Youngyi couldn’t find Suho; the night this fear actually came true.
Suho holds him tight, the force of it surely the only thing keeping Sieun together. Sieun’s back bows. He wheezes, garbled and shaky, and considers, as if outside of himself, if there will ever be a time when he won’t react like this, thinking something horrible happened to Suho whenever there’s a slight mishap in reaching him. Thinking someone got him again.
Sieun’s legs give out for good. Suho sinks to the ground with him. Starts to lean back. Sieun’s hands dart from Suho’s shoulders to his wrists, gripping urgently.
“- not leaving. Sieun. Yeon Sieun. Hey,” Suho’s saying. His tone isn’t aggressive in its outreach. It’s the blatant concern that has Sieun tuning in. He looks into Suho’s face as Suho scoots as close as he can to him on the floor, nodding rapidly. “That’s it, baby. There you are- hi, sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere, I promise.”
Sieun stares at him for a long moment, checking. His eyes are still flooded enough that everything’s a bit oddly shaped, bleary. The motion sensor light turns off, eliminating the glow behind Suho’s head. Sieun missed him so fucking much. He was so fucking scared. Exhaustion is setting in now that he’s not outright sobbing anymore. Sieun doesn’t pay any mind to the tears still coming, he just needs to make sure-
“Are you okay?” The voice that rakes out of him is hardly his own. He doesn’t recognize it. Suho takes on an expression like he just got kicked in the face. “You’re-” Sieun’s lungs demand a large intake of air- “You’re not hurt?”
Suho’s eyes are glassy. He swallows hard enough that Sieun hears his throat click. His hand trembles as he cups the side of Sieun’s head, his fingers scratching against his scalp along the way, thumb framing the delicate skin in front of Sieun’s ear.
“I’m okay,” he confirms, calm, fiercely firm. “I’m not hurt.”
Sieun believes him wholeheartedly. They don’t lie about shit like this anymore. A wounded noise kicks loose from his chest. He’s just- so relieved.
Suho turns his head away, jaw ticking. Sieun knows guilt is wrapping its roots around Suho’s heart. Interrupting to badger him away from such thoughts won’t kill it; Sieun knows that too. He allows Suho the room to speak his mind.
“I’m sorry, Sieun-ah,” Suho says, miserable. “I didn’t realize my phone had died until I was stuck in traffic. I’m so sorry.”
The scare has dispersed like a storm. It left its damage, but they weathered it and the last of it has passed. The black clouds are still daunting in the distance, swirling menacingly, but spilling off into the horizon all the same.
Overflowing with the desire to erase Suho’s unease, Sieun leans into him, tracing Suho’s lower lip with his thumb. The skin there isn’t split. His face is clear of bruising, though the dismay etched there makes Sieun’s stomach swoop out from under him. He wants nothing more than to rectify it.
“Love you,” Sieun whispers. Suho’s breath stutters against his hand. They’re so close that Suho has to look back and forth between Sieun’s eyes, and he does this several times over. He’s weighing in. Observing. Making sure Sieun’s truly alright because Suho takes Sieun’s state of body and mind straight to the heart. He cannot bear it when Sieun is hurt.
Years ago, Suho’s beautiful proclamation of this, forced to become a tragedy at the hands of others, showed Sieun just how much. It’s a moral landmark they share. The loyalty they exhibit for one another is an unshakable constant. A given. They celebrate each other’s triumphs as their own. They undergo each other’s pain. So Sieun lets Suho look for what he needs to see. Take what he needs to.
The floor beneath them buzzes with retreating thunder and Sieun grazes his knuckles down the length of Suho’s neck and repeats, “Love you.”
There it is: observing turned believing. The tension in Suho’s shoulders dissipates. He ducks his head to press his lips to Sieun’s inner wrist, eyebrows pulled together sweetly.
“Love you,” he whispers back. Always echoes of each other, always mirrors of devotion.
More settled now, heightened emotions tamping down, Sieun realizes that Suho’s tacky with drying sweat. His brow furrows.
“Is it hot outside?”
“Ah. Uh…”
Sieun raises an eyebrow at the non-response. Suho cracks a tiny grin, undeniably sheepish, and entangles their fingers to drop them in his lap. He sniffs. Spills.
“We were at a complete standstill. I think there was a wreck further down the road. I got my phone out to update you, and that’s when I realized. So I moved my bike onto the sidewalk and locked it up outside a convenience store.”
Sieun honestly already had an inkling of what happened, but his hammering heart has him asking anyway. He’s going to fucking cry again.
“You ran here?”
“I didn’t want you to worry,” Suho says softly, squeezing his hand. “It was only two miles, Sieun-ah. To get home to you? No brainer.”
Sieun is definitely crying again.
“Jagiya,” he whimpers, tears making his tone frail. He bulldozes right along even as Suho’s entire body sags at the name. “Your leg, Suho-”
“I’m good, baby,” Suho hushes him. “I’ve been doing my stretches. I wouldn’t have pushed it if I couldn’t handle it, I swear.”
Sieun sucks in a choppy breath. He needs to stall another moment to give his mind time to flicker, stuck in place.
“Your bike might get stolen.”
Suho’s smile is crooked, fond. He clutches the back of Sieun’s neck, hand as weighty and grounding as Suho knows Sieun needs it to be. He shrugs. “Good thing it’s just a bike.”
Sieun feels his eyes attempting to bug out of his head. This man. This man and his persistently selfless heart. Sieun’s brain stops skipping. His racing thoughts slow. They’re sitting together in the hallway, their legs bent and hands linked and faces close. Home. Safe.
Like a snipped string, Sieun drops his forehead to Suho’s shoulder and lets out the last of the strangled exhales coiled up inside him. Suho rocks them back and forth for a while, humming. Sieun closes his eyes. Releases the dream, the memories. Lets a true wake of peace engulf him for the first time since this morning, when they parted ways.
Sieun doesn’t realize he’d actually started to nod off until Suho asks, “Did you eat?”
Sieun tells him yes. Untucks his face from Suho to look at him as he says, “Good.”
It makes Sieun smile, faintly. Suho catches it. Smiles back, something like pride laced in the creases around his eyes.
They drag themselves to their room. Suho undresses to take a quick shower. Sieun brushes his teeth at the sink, washes his face. Shuffles back into the bedroom to swap his sweatshirt with a sleep shirt. Glances at the empty bed. Returns to the bathroom and lifts himself onto the counter, resting his head against the wall to his left.
He starts falling asleep again, warmth from the vapor acting as a blanket, and doesn’t stir until Suho’s already out of the shower, dressed, and standing right in front of him.
“Angel,” Suho murmurs, bracing his hands on either side of Sieun. “What’re you doing here? Did you get that tired after washing up?”
Suho’s hair is wet, mussed across his forehead. He’s so handsome. Something feels like it’s been bottled up and shaken within Sieun, like all the affection needs to find an outlet to fizz out of. Sieun just stares at him quietly, admiring. Aching.
This is the normal slant downward from Sieun’s bad days. He needs to be close to him. It took Sieun a long damn time to accept that desiring that doesn’t make him weak, or lesser, or pathetic. It gives Suho the opportunity to grant him that recovery. To love on him. And Suho’s love makes Sieun stronger than he could ever be without it.
Sieun leaves his eyes unguarded and his body relaxed, slumped into the wall. “Was waiting for you.”
Suho’s eyelids dip, stunned. Years of having this, and even still. That’s just how it is, Sieun supposes. They might not ever stop surprising each other.
Hands slipping back on the countertop, Suho closes the distance until their faces are level.
“Sieun-ah. You’re so sweet. Some people don’t realize it because they don’t look long enough. But you really are the sweetest. And you can’t hide it from me.”
Sieun holds his gaze. “Only you.”
Like a puppy, Suho cocks his head to the side just slightly. “Hm?”
“I won’t hide from you.” A pause. Sieun tilts into the ache. “Only you.”
Suho’s breath leaves him audibly, all at once. He kisses Sieun, full, heavy. Hands flying up to cradle his skull. Tongue slipping into his mouth immediately, coaxing him open. The pressure is what threads Sieun back together. Suho knows it. Knows he needs it.
It crests, Sieun’s breathing becoming labored, Suho’s hands dropping to grip Sieun’s hips once, twice, before Sieun lowers his chin the tiniest bit. It slows. Softens. Regresses to closed-mouth kisses, then to merely hovering just enough for their lips to brush.
Unhurried, Suho adjusts to kiss Sieun’s cheek. He’s recharging too. Sieun runs his palms over Suho’s upper arms. Silence is overarching. It calls them to the lull of sleep.
Obeying, Suho pulls Sieun closer to the edge of the counter so he can slide an arm under Sieun’s knees and the other behind his back. He moves them into their room.
“I could walk,” Sieun mumbles.
“You could,” Suho returns.
He lowers Sieun onto the bed like a precious jewel, then climbs over him to get to the other side. Once the comforter is out of the way, they arrange themselves with practiced precision, Suho tugging Sieun back into his chest, arm secure over his midsection.
“Sieun-ah. What’s true?”
Sieun blinks slowly in the near darkness. Feels Suho’s breath rising and falling against his back.
“You’re safe.”
Suho shoves his nose into Sieun’s hair. Stills.
It comes back to Sieun: the desperate trepidation on Suho’s face when he’d ripped the door open. Because he knew Sieun would assume the worst. Because he didn’t want Sieun to be afraid.
“Suho-yah,” he says quietly. Suho hums. “What else is true?”
Pure silence. Then, Suho drawing him ever closer. Suho’s voice, tight with emotion when he answers, “You love me.”
Sieun pulls Suho’s hand to his mouth, closes his eyes.
“Yeon Sieun,” Suho tuts sleepily, obviously grinning. “Warmhearted.”
Ahn Suho, Sieun thinks, drifting. Radiant.