in the morning

Sehun knows Jongin will be there when he wakes up, but that doesn’t stop him from latching onto the itchy fabric of his gray crewneck. It doesn’t stop him from intertwining a bare calf with Jongin’s, or burying his head into the crook of his neck.

Jongin smells like fresh linens and the salty fragrance of the beaches that his parents would take him to when he was younger.  He wraps a reassuring arm around his waist, rubs tiny circles with the pad of his thumb into the exposed skin. He says go to sleep, and Sehun follows with a tired laugh, and I’m trying. Jongin’s arm tightens, just by a margin, but nonetheless, Sehun still notices and nestles closer, breathes in Jongin’s scent just a little more.

He knows he’ll be there when he wakes up, but that doesn’t stop him from painting his skin with butterfly kisses. Jongin responds with a kiss to his forehead and a really go to sleep. Sehun obeys, closes his eyes. There’s nothing to worry about, he tells himself, Jongin will be there when he wakes up, and that’s all that matters.