Ship/Member: soonyoung/wonwoo
Major Tags: N/A
Additional Tags: established relationship, non-idol au, seeing pieces of yourself in the person you love and vice versa, domesticity
Permission to remix: yes!

word count: 1495

hopefully i managed to somewhat capture the essence of the prompt! i kinda wrote this in an incomprehensible blur so. apologies in advance

crossposted to ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/36275356

***

Soonyoung wakes up in a bed and a shirt that do not belong to him.

Wonwoo’s room has blackout curtains, but Soonyoung still feels the essence of morning, letting out a yawn and rubbing at his eyes. The pillow his head rests on still carries Wonwoo’s scent, earthy and grounding. Soonyoung relaxes back into the sheets, and they welcome him like he was always meant to be there.

It doesn’t take long for his brain to register that he was alone in bed. Soonyoung misses Wonwoo’s presence already.

He eventually rises to his feet, stretching his tired arms high above his head, before making his way over to the window and throwing open the thick curtains. The flood of light burns his eyes for a few seconds, before he adjusts and takes in the warm blues and golds of the day ahead.

Mornings were not a friend of Soonyoung’s for the longest time. However, he’s developed a newfound appreciation for the way the early skies greet him, the way the sun falls on the slants and curves of Wonwoo’s face whenever they wake up together, and Soonyoung’s never seen anything more beautiful. You’re a bad influence, Wonwoo whispers into Soonyoung’s skin whenever he succeeds in dragging his boyfriend back into bed and disrupting his morning routine, though, the fondness in his voice gives him away every time. Mornings meant having the person he loves all to himself, just for a little while, before having to engage with the real world, so how could Soonyoung not grow to love them?

Soonyoung navigates the apartment like the back of his hand; the bathroom is three strides away from the bedroom, it’s a sharp right turn to make it to the living room, and two precarious steps back to avoid treading on Misun’s cat-bed. From the looks of it, the cat in question has already woken up and gone to make herself comfortable on the balcony, leaving behind a trail of dry food that Wonwoo must have fed her this morning. How sweet.

The houseplants that Jisoo gifted Soonyoung for his birthday sit on a shelf by the front door, decorating the hallway with brilliant greens and pinks and yellows. Your apartment doesn’t get enough sunlight, Wonwoo had reasoned when Soonyoung wanted to keep them in his own dingy little bedroom. He likes this arrangement more, though; the colours fill the space like they’ve always belonged there.

His eyes are still bleary when he makes it to the kitchen, but Soonyoung would recognise the outline of Wonwoo’s back anywhere, the shape imprinted in his mind just like his credit card pin or his own birthday. Soonyoung walks forward, the tiles cold beneath his feet like always, and hops up onto the adjacent kitchen counter. Wonwoo doesn’t seem to notice him yet, humming along to the music playing through his earbuds as he busies away on the stove. Soonyoung’s eyes are drawn to the way Wonwoo’s arms flex under his shirt as he grips the pan, stirring the vegetables around. He finds everything Wonwoo does attractive, even if he is currently burning whatever he’s trying to make.

Wonwoo is not a good cook. The Wonwoo that Soonyoung knew from when they first started dating would’ve given up at the first sign of the singed smell coming from the rice cooker, which is now switched off. The damage is already done though. Seeing his mess all the way through to the end was a very Soonyoung-esque move. It brings a smile to Soonyoung’s face; perhaps he is a bad influence after all.

He pokes Wonwoo with his foot to get his attention. “Whatcha making?”

“Breakfast.” Wonwoo’s voice is low and raspy as he responds, tucking away his earbuds. However, his face lights up like the sunshine spilling in through the window as he turns to look at Soonyoung. Soonyoung feels the warmth from both filling his chest. “Well, trying to.”

“Let me help.”

“I wanted to surprise you, though.”

“I know you too well for you to surprise me.” Soonyoung jumps down from the counter and takes the pan from Wonwoo. The vegetables were on the verge of being unsalvageable, but it wasn’t anything some sauce and extra seasoning couldn’t fix. Wonwoo wraps his arms around Soonyoung like a blanket while he cooks, pressing kisses to his boyfriend’s forehead, and now Soonyoung truly feels like his day has started. Wonwoo’s touch is like coming home when you didn’t even know you were lost, and Soonyoung has never felt a greater sense of belonging than in his embrace. Soonyoung lowers the heat on the stove and leans up to meet his lips instead, but Wonwoo tilts his head away before he gets the chance.

“Hey!”

“You haven’t brushed your teeth yet.”

Soonyoung pouts. “You don’t know that.”

But of course, Wonwoo knows. There isn’t much about Soonyoung that Wonwoo doesn’t carry around in that pretty little head of his — like a human Pokédex, Hansol would probably say.

They eat their breakfast standing up, leaning against the kitchen counter, with Soonyoung using Wonwoo’s shoulder as a headrest. Between Wonwoo’s poor cooking and Soonyoung’s attempt to save the meal, the flavours have cancelled out to taste like absolutely nothing. At least it’s edible, Soonyoung tries telling himself as he bites into a bland piece of carrot.

“Nice shirt.” Wonwoo comments, tracing his thumb along the edge of where Soonyoung’s collarbone and the hem of his clothing meet. Soonyoung remembers how awkward Wonwoo used to be when it came to initiating contact, but now he can hardly keep his hands to himself. Not that Soonyoung would ever complain.

It’s not mine, Soonyoung almost says, but it doesn’t feel right on his tongue.

It’s interesting how elements of Soonyoung and Wonwoo have bled and melded into one another over time. The dish soap by the sink is the brand Soonyoung always buys since it reminds him of his mother’s house. The washing line on the balcony holding an array of Soonyoung’s socks and Wonwoo’s pants — or were they Wonwoo’s socks and Soonyoung’s pants? — sways in the summer breeze outside. The glasses Wonwoo’s wearing are his backup pair; his regular ones are sitting on Soonyoung’s bedside table, alongside a tiger plushie and a book Wonwoo keeps meaning to read but never gets around to.

Soonyoung wonders when the notions of yours and mine began to feel arbitrary. All around him, he only sees us, ours.

God, how corny. It sounds like something out of those dramas Mingyu keeps recommending to him. But that’s what love feels like, right?

He glances up at Wonwoo to find his boyfriend already looking back at him, a soft smile playing at his lips. He wipes away a piece of cabbage that finds its way onto Soonyoung’s cheek and eats it off his own thumb. Soonyoung’s subsequent eye roll does nothing to stop the deep ha ha ha that rings low from Wonwoo’s chest. Wonwoo loves him so much — it’s obvious in the way he looks at Soonyoung like nothing else in the world matters. And Soonyoung gets it. Everything he sees on Wonwoo’s face mirrors what Soonyoung feels in his heart, and somehow it all just clicks.

“I love you.” It’s not the first time Soonyoung has said it, nor the first time that he’s meant it. Soonyoung hardly remembers a time in his life when he didn’t love Wonwoo — but now he sees the fragments of Wonwoo that reside within himself, and the pieces of Soonyoung that live inside Wonwoo. It’s overwhelming, like seeing the world burst into colour for the first time after living a life in greyscale. Soonyoung has never been great at finding the words for all that he feels, but he’s never needed to.

Wonwoo blinks back at him, mouth full of rice. Soonyoung has never loved someone so much. “But… I burned breakfast.”

Soonyoung grins. “Is that what this relationship is hinged on?”

“I hope not, or you’ll probably end up leaving me soon.”

“Nah, wouldn’t dream of it.”

Wonwoo agrees to clear away the dishes. Despite his earlier complaints, he leans down to kiss Soonyoung as he reaches over for his empty plate. The move was probably a lot smoother in Wonwoo’s head, Soonyoung thinks, but he smiles into it anyway, lacing their fingers together as they melt into each other. Wonwoo’s cheeks are pink when they pull apart for air, and Soonyoung thinks it’s the prettiest he’s ever seen him. Though, Soonyoung thinks Wonwoo looks prettier every single time he sees him.

“I love you too.” The words never get old leaving Wonwoo’s lips. Soonyoung looks down at their joined hands, running his thumb over Wonwoo’s rough knuckles, and decides that he never wants to let go.

“I know.”

Soonyoung is not a philosopher, but he understands everything in the entire world now. Everything has meaning to him because he loves Wonwoo and Wonwoo loves him, and that’s all he’ll ever need.