Prismatic Souls Pt 4

 AN: YALL OMG IM SO SORRY!!! I totally forgot I had this account but don't worry, I'll be back to posting regularly on here!! you can always find me on twitter @honeyedsunshine!!

Kyungsoo’s first thought upon waking was that this bed was overwhelmingly comfortable; dangerously so, in fact. He had no intention of moving, snuggled between the comforters and Jongin’s bare chest. Oh. Right. Jongin. Naked, in bed. Still asleep, a hand thrown over his eyes. How cute. Kyungsoo shifted closer, resting his cheek on Jongin’s pec, his eyes fluttering to a close when the alarm on his phone went off.
    “Shit,” he bolted upright, scrambling for his phone (and knocking his hip bone on the corner of the nightstand - that would leave a nasty bruise, he knew it). He looked at the time, letting out a string of curses. There was no way he’d make it to work on time, not when he had to cross all of Seoul and back. He couldn’t risk showing up without his uniform. So he pulled on his rumpled clothes, nearly falling ass-first on the floor. Jongin had woken up with the racket, peering at Kyungsoo with eyes still puffy from his sleep. His hair was sticking up adorably, and Kyungsoo wanted to go back to bed and pat it down, to caress Jongin’s cheek until they fell asleep again. But he couldn’t, so he pulled on his socks and ran downstairs.

    He did, in fact, arrive to work almost two hours late. He hoped to slip in unnoticed, but it was a completely unreasonable hope, considering he’d missed three days of work and was now late. Jaehwan cornered him first, bread knife in hand.
    “Where the hell have you been?” Jaehwan asked, waving the knife in Kyungsoo’s face.
    “Can you point that somewhere else before you hurt someone,” Kyungsoo snapped, trying to push past him.
    “Not until you answer my question,” he hissed. Kyungsoo gave him the dirtiest look he could muster, folding his arms across his chest.
    “I fell into my closet and ended up in Narnia where a leopard-”
    “It was a lion,” Jaehwan interrupted.
    “Where a leopard decided it wanted to show me the whole continent on a five-star cruise ship. Only just got back yesterday,” Kyungsoo finished, glaring at him.
    “Fuck you, I was worried,” Jaehwan spat.
    “I’m fine, now move,” Kyungsoo pushed past him, going to his work station.
    The sight of the peppers, the ones he’d mixed up just last week, shocked him. Waxy and bright and yellow and green and red, stark against the brushed steel of the table. He would definitely grow these at home. It seemed a shame to him, actually, to have to cut them now, but he did anyway, marveling in the even, minute cubes building up on the cutting board. It engrossed him, the rhythm of cutting, until he’d forgotten that he’d been so nervous.
    That was, until Jeongsuk called him to the office. Kyungsoo was officially fucked.
    He bowed deeply as soon as he reached the door, bowing twice more before Jeongsuk asked him to sit.
    “Welcome back, Mr. Do,” he said with a smile, resting his elbows on the desk. Kyungsoo swallowed hard. Jeongsuk’s nonchalance was throwing him off.
    “Th-thank you?” He stuttered.
    “You were out for-” Jeongsuk paused, looking down at the paper on his desk, “three days, and you were late today.” Then nothing else. Kyungsoo could feel the sweat seeping into his uniform shirt.
    “I’m very sorry, Mr. Jo, it won’t happen again,” Kyungsoo murmured, bowing; but when he sat back up, Jeongsuk was still giving him a curious look.
    “Why were you out?”
    “S-sorry?”
    “You’ve never missed work like this, and we tried contacting you but we couldn’t. We were worried. Were you alright?” Jeongsuk asked. Kyungsoo was stunned into silence.
    “Y-yes, I was fine, Mr. Jo,” Kyungsoo said at last. Jeongsuk sat back.
    “Well, that’s good to hear. But I’ll still need to know why you were out,” he said.
    “Because I-” Kyungsoo paused. This was the first time he was going to say it. To speak the words into existence, “Because I met my soulmate.” Oh, that felt amazing. Jeongsuk’s face lit up.
    “Congratulations, Kyungsoo,” he said, standing up. “Really, this is incredible! I’m so happy for you.” And then he pulled Kyungsoo into a hug. Kyungsoo sputtered out a thank you.
    “I know I should’ve called it in, Mr. Jo, but it was so overwhelming-”
    “Oh, I know, Kyungsoo. It’s fine, don’t worry. We can talk more about it when you get back,” Jeongsuk sat back down.
    “G-get back? From…” Kyungsoo stared at him.
    “From your leave. All persons who meet their soulmate are entitled to four weeks of vacation for the purpose of strengthening the relationship,” said Jeongsuk, beaming up at Kyungsoo.
    “Oh.”
    “Now go home, Kyungsoo. Relax. Go fall in love,” said Jeongsuk, standing up to give Kyungsoo a pat on the shoulder. Kyungsoo was still in shock, letting his boss lead him out of the office, standing at the door awkwardly when Jeongsuk continued on his way.

The train ride home was one long hour and half trip of processing just what Jeongsuk had told him. Four weeks off. He’d never even dreamed of having that much time off. But it was perfect. Then his thoughts turned to Jongin. He couldn’t think of him without his ears turning red. So caught up in his memory of the night before that he nearly missed his stop. Even the dreary streets and dingy apartment weren’t enough to dampen his mood. That was, until he pulled out his phone to call Jongin and realized he didn’t have his number. Fuck. How could he forget? His heart sank, and for a split second he wanted to scream, but no, he would figure it out. So he scrolled through his contact list until he found the person he was looking for.
    “Jongdae, I need to ask you something-”
    “Good morning Kyungsoo,” Jongdae chirped. Kyungsoo let out an exasperated sigh. He really didn’t want to hear what Jongdae would say.
    “Do you, by any chance, happen to have Jongin’s phone number?”
    Silence. Kyungsoo looked at his phone, thinking the call had disconnected, but no, Jongdae was still there.
    “Hello?” A sharp inhalation.
    “Oh, I heard you. But of all the monumentally stupid things you’ve ever done, Do Kyungsoo-”
    “Yes, Jongdae. I know. Do you have his number?”
    “You literally went home with him last night!” Jongdae screeched.
    “I know that-”
    “I cannot believe you right now, Kyungsoo-”
    “Can you just text me his number-”
    “Were you two fucking? That’s the only valid excuse for this-” Kyungsoo hung up on him then, sitting on the floor next to his bed. A few minutes passed, and still no text from Jongdae. Tears pricked his eyes, and he sniffled, feeling overwhelmingly useless. Why couldn’t he just have remembered? That should’ve been the first thing he did, the most basic- The vibration of his phone interrupted his thoughts. A number flashed on the screen, one Kyungsoo didn’t know, so he let it ring, getting ready to indulge in his pity fest when the realization smacked him. He practically tackled the phone, swearing when it didn’t respond to his thumb at first.
    “Hello?!” He asked, breathlessly.
    “Kyungsoo?” yes, that was Jongin’s deep voice on the other end. Kyungsoo sighed, wiping at the stray tear on his cheek.
    “Hey, oh gosh. I’m really sorry, I completely forgot to ask you for your number-”
    “It’s okay. I did too,” Jongin chuckled, “But are you okay?”
    “Why wouldn’t I be?” Kyungsoo asked, staring at his phone with a frown.
    “Oh, well, you really bolted out of the apartment this morning and you seemed like you were panicking so I didn’t know if maybe…”
    “Maybe what?”
    “Maybe you’d regretted what we did last night,” Jongin finished in a small voice.
    “What? Oh- No! Jongin no! I don’t regret it,” Kyungsoo stuttered. “I was just freaking out because my alarm went off and I’d completely forgotten I was going to work today and I didn’t even have my unifor- Why are you laughing?”
    “Nothing. Go on,” said Jongin.
    “Well I rushed to get home. And I did get to work late, unfortunately, but then my boss told me I had the next four weeks off-”
    “Because of us,” Jongin finished. Yes. Because of us. Kyungsoo liked the sound of that. “Well now that you know you don’t have to work tomorrow, would you like to eat dinner at my place and stay over?” Kyungsoo blushed, burying his face in his hands. Which was stupid, really, Jongin couldn’t see him. But the thought of what they had done last night…
    “Depends on what dinner is,” Kyungsoo answered, cringing. That came out much less flirty than he’d meant it to.
    “We could have a glamorous dinner from Shake Shack?” Jongin asked, dissolving into laughter. Kyungsoo sputtered.
    “Absolutely not, Kim Jongin,” he said, still in disbelief.
    “They have good burgers,” he heard Jongin whine.
    “Why don’t you cook me something,” said Kyungsoo. Silence. The silence stretched on so long, in fact, that Kyungsoo thought the call had disconnected.
    “Not if you want to live,” an unfamiliar voice answered.
    “Manager-hyung!” Jongin’s horrified voice squeaked. Kyungsoo giggled.
    “He can’t be that bad, can he?” Kyungsoo asked. Jongin whined.
    “I would really prefer that you get Shake Shack if Jongin’s cooking is the other option,” the manager replied.
    “I’m not that terrible, it’s just experimental,” said Jongin, continuing his whining. Oh, that did not sound good.
    “Okay, how about I cook?” Kyungsoo asked.
    “Yes,” both Jongin and the manager replied. Kyungsoo chuckled.
    “Alright, if I’m gonna cook, I’m going to need-” Kyungsoo listed off the ingredients, smiling the scramble he heard from the other line. “It’ll take me about an hour and a half to get there, though.”
    “Where do you live?” Jongin asked, sounding baffled.
    “Very far,” was Kyungsoo’s answer.
    “Okay,” said Jongin, sounding, if Kyungsoo wasn’t imagining things, a bit disappointed. “Manager-hyung is gonna get the ingredients for you.”
    “See you then,” said Kyungsoo.
    “Mmm. Please save my number this time, yah?” Jongin quipped, before he hung up.

-

The doorman’s voice crackled through the intercom, announcing Kyungsoo’s arrival. Jongin glanced at the bags of groceries his manager had dropped off, then at the door, bouncing on the balls of his feet. He’d dressed up for this, far too formally at first, but had finally settled on a black turtleneck and red pants. Fancy but casual. Still comfy. He didn’t want to look too formal. Despite what they’d done last night Jongin was still nervous, going to the mirror by the closet for the millionth time to check his hair, huffing when a stray lock withered, defying the hairspray. He pushed the offending lock back, but it refused to stay, so he whined in protest, sucking his teeth when it flopped onto his forehead again.
    There was a knock on the door. He tried to push it up one last time, but it refused to cooperate, so he left it at that, opening the front door. And there was Kyungsoo, adorable, rosy-cheeked, tiny Kyungsoo, beaming up at him.
    “Hey,” Jongin said a little breathlessly.
    “Hi,” Kyungsoo replied, shifting his weight. That was cute. Jongin almost cooed at him, but that probably would’ve been weird. So he settled for a quick kiss instead, his eyes fluttering to a close when Kyungsoo tiptoed to meet him. 
    “How was work?” Jongin asked when they pulled apart. Kyungsoo’s apple cheeks were fully pink now. Gosh, Jongin wanted to bury him in smooches. But Kyungsoo was still standing in the doorway, so Jongin stepped aside to let him in.
    “What, you mean the whole twenty minutes I was there?” said Kyungsoo, toeing off his shoes.
    “Well, twenty minutes of work for four weeks of vacation sounds like a good day to me,” said Jongin, laughing when Kyungsoo gave him a light smack on the arm. He padded over to the kitchen (and Jongin watched the sway of Kyungsoo’s hips, the lightest jiggle of Kyungsoo’s thighs and ass, completely enraptured), stopping next to the bags with a little hop. Oh, that ass jiggle. But then Jongin realized Kyungsoo would turn to look at him at any moment so he sidled over to join him. Kyungsoo gave him a bright smile, brushing the treacherous lock away from Jongin’s forehead. Well, maybe not treacherous. The soft brush of Kyungsoo’s fingertips against his skin made him blush.
    “These it?” Kyungsoo asked, peeking into the bags on the counter. Jongin nodded, peering too. “You didn’t buy this did you?”
    “Manager-hyung knows how to pick things better than I do,” Jongin said with a sheepish grin.
    “Of course,” Kyungsoo said gruffly. For the first time in his life Jongin was starting to feel bad about not knowing how to cook, but then, seeing Kyungsoo’s deft fingers sorting through the groceries (yes, really, even something as simple as that), made him quite glad he didn’t know. “Wait, did you not have any of this?” Kyungsoo turned on Jongin, eyes nearly popping out of the sockets. “Even garlic?” He waved it in front of Kyungsoo’s face.
    “Uh,” Jongin gave him a bashful smile, hunching his shoulders. Kyungsoo stared at him, unblinking, and Jongin bit his lip.
    “You cannot be seriou- oh my god, Jongin,” Kyungsoo had pushed past him, opening up the fridge. It was glimmering on the inside, fresh and clean and entirely empty but for a few water bottles and a can of grape juice. “What do you eat?”
    “Food! I just order out a lot. And maybe sometimes manager-hyung makes shin ramyun for me,” Jongin mumbled, gulping at the bewildered look Kyungsoo gave him.
    “Jongin-” Kyungsoo paused, taking a deep breath. He closed the fridge door, glancing over at the groceries. “I’ll just make dinner.” Okay now Jongin felt bad again. But then Kyungsoo spun into action, working with an efficiency that left Jongin slack-jawed.
    “Wow,”
    “Hmm?” Kyungsoo looked up at him as he peeled the garlic. “This isn’t my house but you’re welcome to sit.” Jongin blushed, settling onto a stool.
    “It is your home,” he said softly, and now it was Kyungsoo’s turn to blush. “And you’re just- wow. How do you do all of that so fast?” Kyungsoo snorted.
    “Practice, dummy. I work as a chef’s assistant at a cooking school,” he said, dicing the onions. Jongin watched him, resting his chin on his hand, as Kyungsoo worked, making the dumplings, the broth simmering as his hands flew. The scent was, quite frankly, heavenly, and Jongin’s stomach made its opinion clear. Kyungsoo laughed.
    “Ah, don’t laugh. It’s embarrassing,” Jongin whined, covering his stomach with his arms. “It smells too good.”
    “Mm, I’m guessing it doesn’t ever smell like this here,” said Kyungsoo, finally dropping the dumplings in, stirring the beef that was already in the soup.
    “Not at all,” Jongin moaned, walking around the island to get a closer look. Kyungsoo’s elbow collided with Jongin’s arm.
    “Hey, no standing in the kitchen if you’re not helping,” Kyungsoo snapped, but the way he pouted up at Jongin made him coo. “Stop that.”
    “But I am helping,” Jongin whined, “I’m the quality tester- ah, aw, please?” But Kyungsoo shooed him out anyway.
    “Not yet, big baby,” said Kyungsoo, folding his arms across his chest. Jongin faked a sob, clutching his heart. “Don’t do that, you’re making me feel bad.” So of course, Jongin collapsed onto the counter, arms outstretched.
    “Oh, Kyungsoo. Please, give me some of the magical broth! It’s the only way I’ll liv- ow! You poke hard!” Jongin doubled over, rubbing the spot Kyungsoo had jabbed his finger in.
    “Not yet,” Kyungsoo hissed. “You can’t rush perfection.”
    “Then gimme a smooch,” Jongin whined, pursing his lips comically. Kyungsoo dissolved into giggles.
    “Not when you look like that,” he said. Jongin pouted. “Okay, fine.” Kyungsoo gave him a quick kiss, his squeal of surprise muffled when Jongin kissed him deeper, pulling him close till their chests were touching. The grumble of Jongin’s stomach interrupted them.
    “Oops?” said Jongin.
    “Did you eat lunch?” Kyungsoo asked, his nose scrunched adorably.
    “May…be?” Kyungsoo’s face morphed into shock.
    “That’s not healthy!”
    “You don’t approve of Shake Shack so I wasn’t gonna eat it!” Jongin protested. It was Kyungsoo’s turn to be quiet.
    “I’ve never actually had it,” he confessed. Jongin stared at him, jaw hanging.
    “What?”
    “I’ve never tried it-”
    “That’s blasphemy, hyung-”
    “You can’t even cook!”
    “Yeah well-” Jongin sputtered, “Well- so what?” How eloquent. He burst into laughter before Kyungsoo did, but the Kyungsoo leaned into him, and his heart somersaulted. It felt so right, the way Kyungsoo was tucked in Jongin’s arms, his warm cheek pressed against Jongin’s neck. He wanted to hold him like that forever. Except Kyungsoo bolted, running towards the stove.
“Well, dinner is ready, Jonginnie,” Kyungsoo said, gesturing dramatically at the stove, “Please tell me you at least have plates.” Jongin gasped, mock offended.
“I can’t cook, that doesn’t mean I don’t have thing to eat off of or eat with,” he said with a pout. He grabbed the plates for Kyungsoo, watching him serve the soup, handling the small spoon (because despite Jongin’s protest, he didn’t even have a ladle) with an efficiency Jongin envied. He walked up behind him, resting his chin on Kyungsoo’s shoulder.
“Jal meokgesseumnida,” he said softly, pressing a kiss to Kyungsoo’s cheek.

Prismatic Souls Pt 5

 AN: And here's the last part of PS so far, hope you guys enjoy

Kyungsoo stretched luxuriously, slumping onto Jongin’s chest again when he was done. He’d been awake for half an hour now, but the comfort of the bed was too much, nestled between the warmth of the comforter and the warmth of Jongin; so he stayed, lulled into a pliant state. Jongin, it seemed, wouldn’t wake soon, and Kyungsoo wanted to make them breakfast, but then he remembered the gleaming empty insides of the fridge and decided that staying in bed really would be the best option.

It would be another hour before Jongin stirred, blinking the sleep out of his eyes.

“Morning,” he murmured into Kyungsoo’s hair.

“Hm, good morning Jonginnie,” said Kyungsoo, propping his chin on Jongin’s chest.

“Ow, pointy chin,” Jongin grumbled, pouting when Kyungsoo giggled. But then Jongin rolled onto his side (and Kyungsoo slid off him) and closed his eyes again.

“Oh no. Come on,” Kyungsoo sat up then, hissing at the cool air against his overheated skin. The comforter was puddled at his waist, and had slipped off Jongin’s shoulder; he shivered, curling up into a ball.

“Go back to sleep,” he whined, pulling Kyungsoo down. Kyungsoo draped himself over Jongin’s bare back, nuzzling Jongin’s shoulder.

“Aren’t you hungry?” he whispered. Jongin groaned.

“Yes,” he said in a small voice. “But I don’t wanna leave bed.”

“Well I-” Kyungsoo said, placing a kiss on Jongin’s shoulder, “will go make breakfast and you-” another kiss, “will wash up.” Jongin sighed.

“Okay,” he sniffled. So with another kiss, Kyungsoo rolled off the bed and trudged downstairs.

The dumplings, leftovers from last night that he decided to pan-fry, were nearly done by the time he felt Jongin come up behind him, nuzzling the back of his head.

“Smells good,”

“That’s what happens when the food you cook is homemade-”

“I meant you,” Jongin said softly. Kyungsoo blushed.

“O-oh,” he turned his head to look up at Jongin, his cheeks heating up at the bashful smile on Jongin’s lips.

“But the food does too,” Jongin added, and his stomach echoed its agreement.

“It’s a good thing it’s done then, huh,” said Kyungsoo, placing the dumplings on a plate. Jongin, in his infinite impatience (something Kyungsoo had noticed last night) grabbed a dumpling with his fingers, hissing when it burned him.

“Why does it hurt me like this?” he whined.

“The same way the soup hurt you last night?” Kyungsoo asked, raising an eyebrow. Jongin sighed, his shoulders sagging.

“Yes,” he sniffled.

“Then wait, dummy,” said Kyungsoo, handing Jongin chopsticks. Jongin complied, but dragged his feet to the table, biting into the first dumpling as soon as Kyungsoo sat down.

They ate in relative silence, no doubt aided by their hunger, until they were down to the last dumpling. Jongin stared at it, then at Kyungsoo.

“You can have it,” Kyungsoo said sweetly.

“But I feel bad,” Jongin said softly.

“It’s fine, Jonginnie, I can make more,” said Kyungsoo, twining his fingers with Jongin’s. They were so slender, elegant; long and slim, just like the rest of Jongin. He loved it.

“Okay,” Jongin said hesitantly. But then he swallowed the dumpling in one bite. Of course. But now that they had eaten they found it hard to get up. Well, Kyungsoo did at least, and judging by the slump of Jongin’s shoulders, he also had no intention of getting up.

“We need food,” Kyungsoo said after a while. Jongin opened his mouth to reply. “Real food.” He closed it with a pout.

“We just ate.”

“Yeah, the last food in this apartment. You know there’s nothing else there. I can’t cook with half a head of garlic and two onions,” Kyungsoo retorted.

“We could get them delivered?” Jongin said hopefully. Delivered?

“Absolutely not, Kim Jongin,” Kyungsoo sniffed.

“Why not?”

“They don’t know how to pick anything! They give you beat up fruits and bad meat and-”

“Okay, we’ll go!” said Jongin, an amused twinkle in his eye. “You look so cute all riled up.”

Kyungsoo sputtered. No. He was not cute. But he also couldn’t say no to Jongin, not like that. So he just stood up, squeaking when Jongin pinched his ass.

 

They arrived to the supermarket an hour later, and Kyungsoo was equal parts excited and intimidated. This was a fancy supermarket, with overpriced food, but it was all better quality, fresher. Any chef (or chef’s assistant’s) wet dream. He took a deep breath and stepped in, keeping out of the way of Jongin and the cart. First were the fruits, which Jongin stopped at immediately, and Kyungsoo had to stop him from filling the whole cart with boxes of strawberries. Then Kyungsoo wandered off, admiring the deep red pomegranates.

“Oh look, hyung, peache- Ah!” Jongin threw the fruit back, jumping back. It happened nearly in slow motion, the tumble of fruits, but Kyungsoo was able to stop them with his arm, only the offending peach rolling onto the floor.

“Jongin!” Kyungsoo looked over at him, his eyes wide. Jongin was still frozen, watching the peach roll farther. “What was that for?” Jongin held out his hand.

“M-moldy,” he sniffled, looking at his fingers miserably. Kyungsoo let out his breath, pushing the fruits back into a neat pile.

“Did you actually touch the mold?” Kyungsoo asked, shuffling back to inspect Jongin’s fingers.

“I-I don’t think so,” Jongin said miserably. With anyone else Kyungsoo would have continued to be annoyed, but the monumental pout and the glisten in Jongin’s eyes made his heart melt.

“Just go wash your hands,” Kyungsoo said softly, brushing the hair out of Jongin’s eyes, “And don’t scare me like that again, okay?” Jongin nodded, leaning down to give Kyungsoo a quick peck on the lips. Kyungsoo watched him walk down the aisle, skirting the fallen moldy peach, and rested his hands on the shopping cart handle.

He heard Jongin guffawing behind him.

“Hyung-” and a snort, his laughter growing. So Kyungsoo turned around. And he saw apricots.

“Yes?” He asked, eyebrows raised.

“Tiny butts,” Jongin managed, before dissolving into laughter yet again. Kyungsoo stared at him, because was he really laughing at that? But because Jongin’s laugh was so ridiculous Kyungsoo couldn’t help the smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Really,” he tried to deadpan, but he couldn’t.

“Look this one is- this one is just like yours,” Jongin said through hysterical giggles, picking up a particularly round apricot with a pronounced indent.

“Okay, put it down. We’re moving on now,” Kyungsoo said, biting back the giggle that threatened to spill. He plucked the apricot from Jongin’s fingers and placed it back snugly among the others.

“Tiny Kyungsoo butts,” Jongin repeated, burying his head in Kyungsoo’s back, his shoulders shaking.

“Hyung look! Cucumbers! My friend Baekhyun hates the-”

“Jongin,” said Kyungsoo, staring at the fruit in Jongin’s hand.

“Eh?” Jongin looked at it, then back at Kyungsoo.

“That’s…not a cucumber,” he said at last. Jongin’s face morphed into one of confusion, his lip curled.

“It’s not?” Jongin held it closer, and Kyungsoo had to stifle a giggle.

“It’s a zucchini,” said Kyungsoo, pointing at the plastic label on the display.

“I just saw long and green-”

“Mhmm,” Kyungsoo couldn’t hold back his laughter now and Jongin’s face fell.

“Ah, hyung,” he whined, “That’s not fair, this is your area of expertise.” He stomped his foot, huffing at Kyungsoo’s giggles.

“It’s-it’s-” but he couldn’t even get out the words. Jongin huffed.

“Yah, let’s just go,” he plopped the zucchini back, turning on his heel.

“Wait, I actually want some of those,” Kyungsoo sputtered, grabbing two and a plastic bag for Jongin to put them in. But naturally Jongin just kept pushing the cart, a zucchini in each hand, the bag sitting on top of the onions, neglected.

“Do you think you could-” Jongin looked around, then lowered his voice, “Do you think you could stickoneoftheseupyourass?” Kyungsoo stopped abruptly, cursing when Jongin crashed the shopping cart into him.

“What?”

Jongin looked up at him from the zucchinis in his hand.

“You know,” he waved them around, “Up the bun hole?”

“But why?” Kyungsoo asked. Jongin shrugged. “Wh- that’s what dildos are for!” And just because luck was not on Kyungsoo’s side, an ahjumma passed at that moment and gave him a disapproving frown. “Don’t laugh!” Kyungsoo whined, but of course Jongin did anyway.

“I was just wondering, that’s all,” he said, still grinning.

“I don’t think so. Cucumbers are probably better for that,” Kyungsoo said at last, snatching the zucchini out of Jongin’s hands. “Next time, we’re getting the groceries delivered.”

“Aw, no! This is fun,” said Jongin, poking Kyungsoo’s arm.

And maybe Jongin was right. Everything in the cart looked beautiful, the arrays of deep, striated red of the pomegranates, the green and yellow mottled pumpkins, the deeper green of the zucchini; even the waxy reds and greens of peppers nestled between the leaves. Kyungsoo had decided that morning that given all the sunlight in Jongin’s apartment, it would be a shame to not have a vegetable garden at the very least, so he’d picked pepper plants and tomatoes and chives and cilantro and scallions and oregano and radishes and basil. They’d had to get a second cart just for all the plants, a miniature jungle on wheels. And because Jongin thought they were lovely (they were, with thick pink petals freckled with darker pink, and a scent that nearly made his head dizzy) there were several lilies squashed in between the rest. The meat, stuffed in extra plastic baggies because one couldn’t be too careful (Jongin learned this the hard way, wide-eyed as Kyungsoo gave him a whole speech about putting meat on top of veggies), exiled to one corner of the cart. Kyungsoo was itching to get to the apartment, to sort it all out and see the bursts of color decorate the white insides of the great big fridge, and the packets and cans and boxes neatly organized in the pantry. At last, they picked out some munchies, mostly junk that Kyungsoo refused to even look at but secretly enjoyed. He couldn’t admit that his own highly refined culinary taste would be marred by honey butter chips and pepero.

And then, because they could and they wanted to, they just meandered through the aisles, pointing out outrageous colors (causing quite a few traffic jams in the narrower aisles) and taking in properly, for the first time, a bit of the world in its full spectrum.

But when they reached the apartment Kyungsoo realized, one foot in the door and eyes wide in horror, that they had forgotten a key ingredient.

“Shit.”

“Hm?” Jongin turned around, brow creased.

“We didn’t get kimchi,” he groaned, “Not even something I could use until I raided the fridge at my place.”

“We could go to the corner store-”

“Absolutely not, that stuff is garbage,” Kyungsoo whined, stomping his foot. “I guess I’ll cook non-Korean food for now.” Jongin perked up.

“That’s okay! I don’t think I’ve tried proper foreign food. Shake Shack aside,” he said with a wink. Kyungsoo narrowed his eyes at him.

“Go put the lilies in water,” Kyungsoo grumbled. Jongin grinned at him, giving him a soft kiss on the cheek, before he skipped over to the flowers. Cute. Stupidly cute. Kyungsoo loved it.

 

 

-

 

 

“I think-” Jongin paused, spread-eagled on the mattress.

“Hmm?” Kyungsoo sat at the edge of the bed, flattening the creases on the comforter.

“I think maybe the apartment decor needs an upgrade,” Jongin finished, rolling onto his stomach. Kyungsoo brightened at that, a heart-shaped smile growing on his lips.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I mean, I think Manager-hyung probably had something to do with it but the apartment is so-” Jongin sniffed, “bland. It needs color.”

“It could…” Kyungsoo trailed off, grinning at the unamused look on Jongin’s face.

“Oh come off it, I know you want it to be more colorful too,” Jongin grumbled, and ah- that dorky guffaw. Kyungsoo was too cute for his own good.

“Okay, fine, I do,” said Kyungsoo with a sigh. Jongin pulled Kyungsoo close, so that Kyungsoo was sitting fully on the bed, and then lay his head on Kyungsoo’s lap.

“It’s so odd,” Jongin sighed, “It’s like I just can’t quite get enough of it now. To think that I’d gone all these years in monochrome and now-” but then Kyungsoo began to play with Jongin’s hair and all the thoughts slipped out of his mind.

“I know. I feel like I need to see all the most colorful things, to drink them all in,” Kyungsoo hummed, but Jongin was too lost in the sensation of Kyungsoo’s fingers in his hair. “I-I actually-” Kyungsoo chuckled sheepishly, “I already have a few things in mind to buy.”

“Hnng?” Jongin moaned, and Kyungsoo leaned forward to get his phone, “No, don’t move.”

“But how am I gonna show you?” Kyungsoo asked, and Jongin groaned.

“Okay, I’ll get the laptop,” Jongin said, faking a sob. Kyungsoo smacked his shoulder lightly.

“You big baby, you can just come right back,” said Kyungsoo, but he was giggling, his bright round cheeks pinked. But Jongin slipped off the bed and crawled to the desk, tucking the laptop under his arm. He handed it to Kyungsoo before he flopped onto the bed again, wiggling his way back onto Kyungsoo’s lap.

The light of the screen was blinding, but Kyungsoo lowered it, smoothing Jongin’s hair down until Jongin stopped grumbling. He pulled up the tabs, his finger hovering over a turquoise monstera print pillow case.

“Hyung, why don’t you look at stuff here?” Jongin asked, opening a new tab (clumsily, because he refused to move from Kyungsoo’s lap). He clicked on the pillowcases, stopping when Kyungsoo choked. He shot up, patting Kyungsoo’s back.

“Sorry, air- wrong way,” he said through the tears. Jongin kept rubbing small circles on his back, until the coughs subsided, but Kyungsoo still looked distressed.

“What’s wrong?” Jongin asked. Kyungsoo looked at the laptop screen, then at him.

“That pillowcase is worth 200,000 won,” said Kyungsoo.

“Yes.”

“Yes? That’s all you have to say to a ridiculously expensive pillowcase?” Kyungsoo squawked.

“Money isn’t an issue for me, Kyungsoo. And it isn’t for you either,” said Jongin. Kyungsoo was just staring at him now, but Jongin knew his brain was whirring. So he let him process it, letting it sink in, until Kyungsoo’s eyes widened. There. He got it.

“Oh.”

Jongin gave him a bright smile, but Kyungsoo was still in a daze. Jongin booped his nose gently, laughing at the bewildered and slightly offended look Kyungsoo gave him.

“Okay, well-” Kyungsoo cleared his throat, sniffling, and then wiggled into a more comfortable position, “Those are cuter pillowcases.”

With a hum of agreement, Jongin sidled close again, his head resting on Kyungsoo’s chest. Of course that was a dangerous thing to do after a dinner as exquisite as the one Kyungsoo had whipped up, with the excitement of the day now gone. He was exhausted, and everything was soft and warm and cozy. His last thought, before his eyelids drooped, was that it felt so natural, so incredibly right, to be cuddled against Kyungsoo’s chest, lulled by the soft beat of his heart.