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The knock was too familiar.
Firm. Impatient. Just slightly desperate.
Sieun didn’t get up. He didn’t even flinch, despite how his chest reacted like he’d been punched from the inside.
“Sieun,” Suho’s voice came muffled through the door. Rain pelted the roof in steady rhythm, matching the uneasy tempo of Sieun’s heartbeat. “Baby—please. I know you’re mad. But let me explain.”
He hated that word. Not because Suho said it. But because it still felt like it belonged to him.
Sieun’s fingers curled tightly around the throw blanket on his lap. He didn't answer. Not when Suho kept knocking. Not when the calls buzzed silently from the phone face-down on the coffee table. Not even when he heard Suho sigh, long and frustrated, like he’d been standing out there for a while.
He expected him to give up.
But Suho didn’t.
The rain grew heavier. Eventually, there were no more knocks. Just a silence that crept up the stairs and seeped into Sieun’s bones. He couldn’t take it anymore.
He opened the door.
And there Suho was—sitting on the hallway floor, hoodie soaked, his eyes tired but locked on Sieun the second the door cracked.
“Finally,” Suho whispered, voice cracking with exhaustion and relief.
“What are you doing here?” Sieun said tightly. “You didn’t have to come.”
“I did.” Suho stood. “You weren’t answering. And I messed up. I know that.”
“You think just showing up fixes it?”
“No,” Suho said, stepping closer, eyes unbearably soft. “But I needed to try.”
The tension between them could be sliced with a knife. Or, apparently, with Suho’s next step. He moved in like he couldn't help it, reaching up to touch Sieun’s cheek—
And Sieun turned away.
“Don’t.”
That broke something in Suho.
“I miss you.”
Sieun stared at the floor. “You shouldn’t.”
“But I do.”
“Suho—”
“I dream about you. Every night. And I wake up reaching for you like an idiot.”
Silence.
“And I can’t sleep in my bed anymore,” Suho went on, voice softer. “Because it smells like you.”
It hit Sieun hard. He finally looked at him—really looked. And Suho looked ruined. Wet hoodie, flushed cheeks, those eyes full of desperation. Like he didn’t just want forgiveness—he needed it.
“Why now?” Sieun whispered.
“Because I couldn’t stand not being near you anymore.”
It was clumsy, like every painful step that got them here. But Suho kissed him—hesitant, afraid, lips tasting like rain and relief.
Sieun didn’t kiss back immediately.
But he didn’t pull away.
Then Suho kissed him again, deeper, hands cradling Sieun’s jaw as if he were porcelain. As if he might disappear.
And Sieun—slowly, heartbreakingly—leaned in.
The dam broke.
Their lips crashed together in a tangle of emotion and desperation, teeth grazing, mouths parting in greedy, breathless rhythm. Suho’s hands found Sieun’s waist and gripped him tightly, as if afraid he’d vanish again. Sieun’s fingers slipped into Suho’s damp hair, tugging hard enough to draw a low groan from Suho’s throat. It was rough and tender all at once, like an apology spoken through every gasp and groan.
It was messy. Uncoordinated. Honest.
Sieun pushed Suho back gently until his spine met the nearest wall, and Suho let him, gladly—his back thudding softly against the surface. Sieun kissed him again, rougher this time, like he was punishing Suho for every second he made him wait. Suho gasped into it, hands sliding down to Sieun’s hips and dragging him closer, their bodies flush and burning.
The kiss deepened, slowed, turned languid in its passion. Tongues tangled, their breath hot and erratic between soft moans and sharp exhales. Sieun bit Suho’s bottom lip gently, and Suho let out a breathy, “Fuck,” before chasing his mouth again.
Then Suho’s mouth left a hot, aching trail down Sieun’s jaw to his neck, pausing where his pulse beat fastest.
“Suho—” Sieun whispered, breath caught in his throat, trembling as his head tilted instinctively to the side.
“I missed this,” Suho murmured, brushing his lips beneath Sieun’s ear. “God, I missed you, baby.”
The word made Sieun shiver, made him whimper softly—and Suho smiled against his skin like he’d just discovered his favorite sound again.
“I missed your voice,” Suho continued, lips pressing slow kisses along the curve of Sieun’s throat. “Missed how you hold me... how you smell—how your skin gets warm right here.” He pressed a kiss beneath Sieun’s jaw, then sucked lightly. “Right here.”
“Suho,” Sieun gasped, hands fisting in the fabric of Suho’s hoodie, pulling him in closer—desperate to feel, desperate to forgive.
“You don’t even know,” Suho whispered, voice low and hoarse. “I’d dream of this. Of you. Waking up hard and miserable because you weren’t there.”
Sieun whimpered again—quiet, stifled—and Suho felt it against his lips. He leaned in, kissing the sound right out of him, swallowing every whine and sigh. One hand cupped Sieun’s jaw, the other slipping under the hem of his shirt to touch bare skin, dragging up along the smooth dip of his spine.
Sieun shivered against him, overwhelmed—burning.
Their mouths met again in another frantic kiss, all teeth and tongue, like they were chasing the high of each other’s presence. Like their lungs only worked when they breathed each other in.
Suho's fingers gripped his waist tighter, thumbs stroking the soft skin just above Sieun's waistband. “You feel so good,” he breathed between kisses. “Always did, baby. Always.”
Sieun exhaled shakily, lips tracing the corner of Suho’s mouth, whispering back like a secret, “You drive me crazy.”
Suho’s hands slid further around, slipping under the back of Sieun’s shirt, pulling him in until there was no space left. Their bodies rocked together, lips never quite leaving skin. Sieun’s moans were quieter now, softer, needier, as Suho trailed open-mouthed kisses down his neck—hungry, adoring, possessive.
They kissed until they couldn’t breathe.
Until the lines between apology and need and affection blurred into something raw and desperate and honest.
Until Suho had kissed every inch of skin he could reach and memorized it again like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.
Until Sieun pulled back just a little, panting, lips kiss-bitten and red, eyes dazed and glassy. His hands were still curled in Suho’s hoodie, and Suho’s mouth was doing terrible, wonderful things along the curve of his neck.
“Wait, S–Suho—” Sieun whispered, voice breaking into a half-whimper.
“Hmm?” Suho murmured against his skin, still pressing warm, open-mouthed kisses under Sieun’s ear, trailing down the side of his neck, the spot that always made Sieun tremble.
Sieun shivered. “Wait, wait—right—”
Suho finally pulled back, breath heavy, pupils blown, lips wet and flushed. One hand stayed cupped around Sieun’s waist, thumb stroking his skin like a grounding point.
“What is it, baby?” he asked, voice low and breathless. “Am I too much?”
“No—no, it’s not that,” Sieun mumbled quickly, blinking up at him, flustered. His cheeks were flushed deep pink, lips parted as he tried to gather his thoughts. “I just... we were supposed to t-talk. Remember?”
Suho tilted his head, brows scrunching slightly, still a little lost in the haze of kisses and heat. “Talk?” he echoed, blinking slowly. “Talk about what?”
Sieun huffed a soft, breathless laugh, still winded, still blushing, and leaned in to kiss the corner of Suho’s mouth—gentle, lingering, affectionate. He let his lips linger there, like he needed to anchor himself, like the warmth of Suho’s skin was the only thing keeping him from combusting.
He pulled back just enough to murmur against Suho’s lips, “The reason you came here, idiot.”
Suho blinked, the question slowly settling in. And then it hit him—why he was here, soaked from the rain, heart cracked open at the door.
–
“The fight,” he said quietly, almost ashamed. “That night. When I said those things.”
Sieun’s expression dimmed, but he didn’t pull away.
“You didn’t just say things, Suho,” he replied, voice soft but pointed. “You said... you needed space. That we were ‘too much.’ That I was suffocating you.”
Suho closed his eyes, jaw clenching. “I didn’t mean any of that.”
“But you said it,” Sieun murmured. “And then you left.”
There was a long pause. The air between them heavy, but not angry—just full of things unspoken for too long.
Suho opened his eyes, gaze raw. “I was overwhelmed. Not by you—never by you. But by everything else. The fights at school. My family on my back again. The pressure to be someone I’m not... I felt like I was drowning.”
“And you thought shutting me out would fix it?”
“No,” Suho admitted. “I just... didn’t want you to see me like that. Weak. Messy. Angry all the time. I thought I was protecting you by walking away before I dragged you down with me.”
Sieun looked at him, eyes glassy but steady. “You didn’t protect me. You broke me.”
“I know,” Suho whispered. “I know I did, and I’ve hated myself every day since.”
He reached for Sieun’s hand, holding it like it might vanish. “But I swear to you—leaving was the biggest mistake of my life. And I’ll do whatever it takes to fix it. I don’t care how long it takes. Just let me try. Let me earn it back.”
Sieun didn’t speak right away. He just looked down at their hands—Suho’s calloused fingers gripping his like they were a lifeline.
Then quietly, finally, Si-eun whispered, “You already started.”
---
Later that night, hours after the rain stopped and the silence between them finally healed, they found their way to Sieun’s bed.
Not with urgency.
But with comfort.
With warmth.
With love.
Suho lay on his back, hair still a little damp from earlier, now mussed into soft waves against the pillow. His hoodie had long been replaced by one of Sieun’s old shirts. His breathing had slowed, body relaxed. One of Sieun’s legs was tangled between his.
Sieun sat beside him, back against the headboard, fingers absentmindedly running through Suho’s hair again. They’d been like that for a while—too full of things to say, too exhausted to say them.
“You’re still staring,” Suho murmured, voice sleep-heavy but smiling. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were trying to hypnotize me.”
Sieun rolled his eyes softly, thumb brushing Suho’s cheekbone. “I’m memorizing.”
“Memorizing what?”
“Your face.”
Suho cracked one eye open, gaze warm and lazy. “That serious, huh?”
“You were gone,” Sieun whispered. “And for a while, I didn’t know if I’d ever get to be this close again.”
There was silence.
Then Suho sat up slightly, just enough to reach him. He pulled Sieun down by the waist until their bodies aligned—legs intertwined, arms wrapped around each other under the blanket like they’d never separated to begin with.
“You’ll always get to be this close,” Suho said, kissing his temple. “Even closer, if you want.”
“I do.”
“Good,” Suho whispered, grinning against his skin. “Because I plan on suffocating you with cuddles every morning.”
Sieun snorted.
“You think I’m kidding, baby?” Suho teased. “Try moving without me attached to you tomorrow. I dare you.”
“I’ll kick you.”
“I’ll bite.”
“Suho—”
“Lightly.”
Sieun smacked his chest, laughing into it.
And Suho just grinned, eyes half-lidded, arms squeezing around Sieun’s back like a human blanket. He nuzzled into the crook of Sieun’s neck, breathing deeply.
“Mmm,” he mumbled. “You smell like fabric softener and forgiveness.”
“Shut up,” Sieun said, but there was laughter in his voice, even as he melted into the embrace.
“Okay,” Suho whispered. “But only because I’m happy.”
A few minutes later, Sieun’s hand slid under the blanket to rest over Suho’s heart. Gentle. Anchored. His eyes were already starting to close.
“Don’t leave again,” Sieun murmured, his voice barely audible, caught somewhere between a whisper and a breath.
Suho leaned in and kissed his cheek—soft, slow, lingering. The kind of kiss you give someone you love too much and can’t put it into words yet. He stayed there, lips pressed to skin like a promise.
“I’m already home,” he said gently, his breath warm against Sieun’s skin.
Sieun’s eyes fluttered half open, just enough to meet Suho’s gaze.
“Cheesy,” he muttered.
“You like it.”
“Barely.”
Suho chuckled and nuzzled in closer, tucking himself against Sieun’s side again, their legs brushing under the covers.
“You’re warm,” he mumbled.
“You’re heavy.”
“You’re a brat.”
“Still not denying it,” Sieun whispered, smirking faintly as Suho kissed the corner of his mouth again.
It was slow this time. Drowsy. The kind of kiss that melted into the sheets with them—no urgency, no fire, just soft lips and quiet affection. Suho kissed him again, and again, and again—lazy pecks that made Sieun sigh and squirm just a little, the smile on his face tugging at the corners even as his eyes began to close again.
“Mmm,” Suho hummed, pulling back just enough to breathe. “You always get sleepy after kisses.”
“No, you just bore me.”
Suho huffed a laugh and attacked his cheek with two quick, ticklish kisses.
“Say you love me again.”
“I will bite you.”
Suho bit him first—gently—on the jaw, and Sieun flinched and laughed, swatting at him.
“Stop that,” he said through a giggle, burying his face into the pillow. “You’re ridiculous.”
Suho wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him close until they were chest-to-chest again, their legs slotting together like puzzle pieces. His voice softened again, playful fading into fond.
“You’re soft when you’re sleepy,” Suho whispered, brushing his nose against Sieun’s. “You pretend to be all prickly, but I know better now.”
“I’m not soft,” Sieun mumbled.
“Then why are you cuddling me?”
“You’re warm. Like a stupid radiator.”
“Uh-huh. Sure. Not because you missed me at all.”
“Shut up and go to sleep.”
Suho grinned and tucked his chin over Sieun’s head, one hand drawing lazy circles against his back.
“Don’t have to ask me twice.”
Sieun’s fingers curled into Suho’s shirt, holding on just a little tighter.
The silence settled gently again—thick and warm and sweet, like the room itself had exhaled.
Eventually, Suho’s breaths evened out first, long and soft against Sieun’s hair.
But Sieun stayed awake a little longer, just long enough to whisper into the crook of Suho’s neck:
“I really did miss you, baby.”
And then, with Suho’s arm tight around him and the weight of his steady heartbeat thudding against his cheek, Sieun let himself drift off too.
Wrapped in warmth, wrapped in love, wrapped in each other.