You; Myungsoo/Sungyeol
You
Myungsoo/Sungyeol. PG. Fluff.
“But for now, this is more than enough.”
094. you; myungsoo/sungyeol
You never woke up before me, so I'd kick the bottom of your bunk and climb up to wake you. I'd tickle you on your neck and you would shrug your shoulder, trying to get rid of my fingers. You've always been ticklish there. I would then proceed to annoy you even more by pinching your nose, not allowing any single oxygen to get into your lungs. Cruel, I know, but you would always wake up. With a scowl, of course, but it's not something that I couldn't kiss goodbye.
I would be in the kitchen, waiting in front of the coffee machine when you trudge in and snook your arms around my waist. You never liked talking while you were still collecting your scattered consciousness, but I knew you meant to say "Good morning" as you rest your chin on my shoulder and I smiled, saying a "Good morning to you, too". Sometimes you would ask me to make a cup for you, but it was rare, and at times like that I would turn around in your embrace and took in your tousled hair and eye bags and I would trace my thumbs along your face and you would lean into my touch. Whenever I had a worried frown, you'd always smile; white teeth and crinkled eyes, telling me I'd get old faster if I kept doing it. I turned around and told you to take a shower, and that your coffee will be ready when you're done. You whispered a "Thanks", kissed my nape and walked off to our room.
I knew you didn't like my morning, bitter coffee so I'd always make sure to put two teaspoons of sugar in it, with a note on the cup telling you to sleep on the car ride later. You did sleep.
Even though I knew the 30 minute nap you took from our dorm to the beauty salon wasn't enough, you would always be up while the make up artist worked her magic. She never really done any, though, as you would still look the same, with or without make up. I would try to sleep on the chair and let the hairdresser do her work. But I was never really asleep and I could hear your steps towards me. After the buzzing of the hair dryer died down, I could feel your fingers treading their way in my hair. And then the hairstylist will scold you for ruining her work, but you'd snicker and run your fingers in my hair once more before moving away.
Before going on stage, you would fix my outfit and I would mess yours and you'd slap my arm away as you tug at a loose fabric on my shirt. I would tease you for totally irrelevant things, like how your wallet held little to no change and you would roll your eyes. I would also tell you to watch your steps, and you'd proceed to tell me your plan on bringing me down along with you if ever you'd fall. I'd say that wasn't going to happen.
Your drama filming was always after the group schedule. I had to admit I was kind of jealous of you getting so many offers but you would always come to me after you've received your next script and we'd run lines together. At the end, you would always smile at me; soft gaze and two pats on my shoulder, telling me that my break was about to come, that I just had to wait. I held on to your words because I trusted you.
You would come home near midnight, or after, when the whole dorm was asleep and drained from schedule and practice and filling the gap you left. You would creak our bedroom door open as softly as you could, but I would always hear it, and the sound of your sock covered feet made against the wooden floor. I would call your name, just to make sure, and you would immediately come to my side, telling me to go back to sleep, as if I was a child. I did, but I could feel your lips on my cheek a few minutes later, and I would faintly smile at your whispered "I love you" before you climb up to your bed.
You always said we had a bit of a sad relationship or some kind, because it was a shame we had to hide it. I sometimes would ask you why even though I knew what you were going to say first (‘Because I want to show you off’) but you would always say different answers after that. I learned you’d love to bring me home to your hometown and introduce me to your family, that you wanted to hold my hand in public and not get judged, and that you wanted to come up to me on stage and say “I love you” and people wouldn’t take it as another fanservice.
I wouldn’t say anything because I felt kind of bad, for both of us. But a smile would always made its way onto my face and you would, too; crescent eyes and twinkling hopes and your hand in mine as you continued,
“But for now, this is more than enough.”
i didn't proofread this, can't you tell?
Myungsoo/Sungyeol. PG. Fluff.
“But for now, this is more than enough.”
094. you; myungsoo/sungyeol
You never woke up before me, so I'd kick the bottom of your bunk and climb up to wake you. I'd tickle you on your neck and you would shrug your shoulder, trying to get rid of my fingers. You've always been ticklish there. I would then proceed to annoy you even more by pinching your nose, not allowing any single oxygen to get into your lungs. Cruel, I know, but you would always wake up. With a scowl, of course, but it's not something that I couldn't kiss goodbye.
I would be in the kitchen, waiting in front of the coffee machine when you trudge in and snook your arms around my waist. You never liked talking while you were still collecting your scattered consciousness, but I knew you meant to say "Good morning" as you rest your chin on my shoulder and I smiled, saying a "Good morning to you, too". Sometimes you would ask me to make a cup for you, but it was rare, and at times like that I would turn around in your embrace and took in your tousled hair and eye bags and I would trace my thumbs along your face and you would lean into my touch. Whenever I had a worried frown, you'd always smile; white teeth and crinkled eyes, telling me I'd get old faster if I kept doing it. I turned around and told you to take a shower, and that your coffee will be ready when you're done. You whispered a "Thanks", kissed my nape and walked off to our room.
I knew you didn't like my morning, bitter coffee so I'd always make sure to put two teaspoons of sugar in it, with a note on the cup telling you to sleep on the car ride later. You did sleep.
Even though I knew the 30 minute nap you took from our dorm to the beauty salon wasn't enough, you would always be up while the make up artist worked her magic. She never really done any, though, as you would still look the same, with or without make up. I would try to sleep on the chair and let the hairdresser do her work. But I was never really asleep and I could hear your steps towards me. After the buzzing of the hair dryer died down, I could feel your fingers treading their way in my hair. And then the hairstylist will scold you for ruining her work, but you'd snicker and run your fingers in my hair once more before moving away.
Before going on stage, you would fix my outfit and I would mess yours and you'd slap my arm away as you tug at a loose fabric on my shirt. I would tease you for totally irrelevant things, like how your wallet held little to no change and you would roll your eyes. I would also tell you to watch your steps, and you'd proceed to tell me your plan on bringing me down along with you if ever you'd fall. I'd say that wasn't going to happen.
Your drama filming was always after the group schedule. I had to admit I was kind of jealous of you getting so many offers but you would always come to me after you've received your next script and we'd run lines together. At the end, you would always smile at me; soft gaze and two pats on my shoulder, telling me that my break was about to come, that I just had to wait. I held on to your words because I trusted you.
You would come home near midnight, or after, when the whole dorm was asleep and drained from schedule and practice and filling the gap you left. You would creak our bedroom door open as softly as you could, but I would always hear it, and the sound of your sock covered feet made against the wooden floor. I would call your name, just to make sure, and you would immediately come to my side, telling me to go back to sleep, as if I was a child. I did, but I could feel your lips on my cheek a few minutes later, and I would faintly smile at your whispered "I love you" before you climb up to your bed.
You always said we had a bit of a sad relationship or some kind, because it was a shame we had to hide it. I sometimes would ask you why even though I knew what you were going to say first (‘Because I want to show you off’) but you would always say different answers after that. I learned you’d love to bring me home to your hometown and introduce me to your family, that you wanted to hold my hand in public and not get judged, and that you wanted to come up to me on stage and say “I love you” and people wouldn’t take it as another fanservice.
I wouldn’t say anything because I felt kind of bad, for both of us. But a smile would always made its way onto my face and you would, too; crescent eyes and twinkling hopes and your hand in mine as you continued,
“But for now, this is more than enough.”
i didn't proofread this, can't you tell?