things don't get to jon. they don't bother him, burrow into or underneath his thick skin. he knows himself. what he is, what he isn't. jealousy, anger, he knows how to take because he throws the same spitfire back and fans the flames with his sharp tongue. but disappointment — it crushes him. it doesn't let him distract himself with rules and boundaries and only having a good time because he knows it isn't to guilt him, or push him, or hurt him. it just is. when he tries and it simply isn't enough — but is he really trying, is he when he's drifting with their unstable current and saying yes to other people and doing things his gut, his unrecognized guilt, tells him he should stop but he doesn't know how to change. dae is too tired to know. and jon is too wired to sleep, not when he's struck awake by the clawing fear that the end he's been so afraid of is here knocking on his door. that the fantasy is about to shift to cold reality and the calm before the storm's passed because this is it, this is how he loses him. as if he's had him in the first place but it's been feeling like it with how they fit together in and out of bed in word and in thought and in heart because jon's shown him his scars and kissed dae's own. he thinks of how it could be. a cold morning. short, sparse, words. a palpable sense of disappointment in a look and a shoulder and a lack of touch because jon is such a — how could he accept dates from other people and not bring dae on any? the only person who deserves it all and more. the slow rise and fall of dae's chest and the sound of him breathing steady tells jon he's asleep. jon wants to laugh, or cry, he's not sure because of course he knows exactly how dae sounds when dae finally drifts into rest because he knows him. he knows how to watch for the slow blink of his eyes, the sleepy soft curve to his smile, the lull of his voice and the way he speaks sleep drunk when jon's trying to wake him up but he wants to sleep, junsu. he wants. jon doesn't know what he wants.
jon doesn't want to wake up. not when he's dreaming of dae in the water, again, brilliant and his. when he does stir it's to a half-awake daze, groggy and exhausted, barely thinking that it's too bright outside for the usual time. he reaches, not seeing but feeling and the scared slow stutter of his fingertips as they cross the sheets is met with full body relief when they collide with a warm body. dae's saying something, good morning maybe, but he doesn't register it. the slope of the underside of his fingers, the expanse of his palm, hesistant as he wraps them around dae's wrist as if he's never touched him before. as if he must ask with each inch of claimed skin if it's okay to continue until he's grasping him whole. he doesn't want to leave. not this bed, not this city, not his side. jon has to keep his hand from wavering as he shifts closer. pulls dae closer until his sleep shaken mouth can kiss at an upper arm. a shoulder. dae naturally envelops him but jon has never asked for it — not like this, when he isn't looking for a fuck but for the reassurance that dae is here and not another dream he's about to wake up from. each patch of skin he's kissed could be jon's. the nape of his neck, his spine, the soft spot of skin underneath his ear. the glow that warms the edges of jon's ears when he smiles. the corner of his eyes that curves so sweetly as he laughs. his big mouth, his dinosaur jaw, his shy and his sweet and his thoughtful but also his teasing and his confidence and how alive he feels against him. dae could be his, all of him, and jon could be — — his too. insufficient, insecure, jon who's bad at relationships and bad at saying how he feels and bad at handling hearts well and bad at all these things but he, like all humans, wants more despite it all. he wants him. he doens't know what to do but he wants to read to him in bed, visit libraries with him to choose which ones to work in, kiss his worries away and charm him with stupid, sentimental, things. princes, wizards, gondola rides and walls covered in notes from lovers because dae won't have to hide away in his books anymore in order to have a happy ending. he wants to stay in love. he wants to go to heaven, in a little rowboat, with him. are you ready? maybe dae is asking if he's ready to head to the library now, dressed and clean. maybe he hasn't actually asked the question and is puzzled by how jon stares at him as if he did ask, gears ticking in his head as jon realy looks. as he adores him. when he speaks, soft for no reason, rising to take his place by dae's side with the back of their hands brushing knuckle tapping against knuckle as if their orbits have finally collided. yeah. i think so.
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