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Gunwook hadn't spoken since they returned to the dorm for a break before the next schedule.
A bit of time to nap, eat, shower, or do whatever that remind themselves they were living their dream, that the bone deep exhaustion was worth it.
It would have been easier for Matthew had there been familiarities to fall back into.
For all the furniture shopping and joint-attempts at decorating, Matthew missed the old door where Ricky used to poke his head in, the bed Gia climbed to nuzzle him for the first time--
(--the counter where Gunwook smeared a palm print of flour on Matthew's black tank top, just to be a little shit, just so he could tug it off Matthew seconds later.)
These days, they perched tentatively on the new couch, kept groceries sparse, hung some clothes up, folded some more, but left the rest and most memorabilia boxed.
He supposed it was habit--to leave everything in suitcases--learned at that place with ninety other boys, in case they were to change room the next day or to go home.
Gunwook now discarded his outside clothes, leaving only his gray ChromeHeart. He plopped onto Matthew's duvet, dragging the big Tteunini over to rest his chin on.
From the doorway, Matthew took in pale skin sprawling across his dark bedding--at least, this was the same, twin mattress or otherwise.
The nostalgia dissipated when Gunwook focused on his phone, thumb swiping upward.
Matthew frowned.
Then schooled his face into something neutral that won't send Gunwook running off--Gunwook liked to be spoiled, not coddled. That was the job of their leader and eldest.
As a boyfriend…Matthew should…
Rehashing the matter in an attempt to comfort? Accompanying Gunwook quietly? Reminding Gunwook that he was adored despite what the world may say?
He did. All nine of them did.
Except Gunwook had been self-aware since the first time they've met.
For each scolding from management, Gunwook must have berated himself ten times worse.
For each advice, Gunwook for sure had already written out what he'd learned from the experience, possible solutions, broken up into bullet points and organized in charts, with notes in the margin, studying like he would a school subject.
(For each love declaration, Gunwook forced a smile in appreciation--as if Matthew wouldn't love him tears stained and pinked nose.)
The best thing was to let Gunwook handle it. But…
Matthew padded his way to his closet and made a show of ruffling through hangers.
"Baby, have you seen my yellow button up? I want to wear it for the fansign today." Matthew tried for grumpy. Nothing caught the attention of his overeager puppy boyfriend than the ultimate strategy: sulking.
"Hmm?" Shuffling of fabric came from behind Matthew before the heat of Gunwook's body wrapped around him, of Gunwook's hands on his waist. "The lemon chiffon that looks like Jiwoong-hyung's abomination in Paris?"
"Yah." Matthew turned to pinch at Gunwook's cheek, his own nose crinkled. "I'm telling him you said that." Matthew's shirt was nowhere near that retina-roasting color. His was fashionable, okay? Lemon, or yellow, or whatever.
"He knows, but it seems you don't." Gunwook grinned, not even trying to duck away as he peered into Matthew's face, seemingly searching--
Crap, was Matthew busted?
"Well--" Matthew hurried and twisted away, grabbing another hanger and putting space between them to show it off. "What I do know is we could match like our Pokemon pajamas!"
Gunwook stared at the pale green cardigan before him, suspicion lifted his brow.
"Snorlax isn't frosted mint--"
Oh, come on. Green was green.
"Park Gunwook." Matthew stomped a foot, no longer acting because his bottom lip poked out on its own. "If you don't want to match with me, then say so."
"I do want to." As expected, the pout had Gunwook stumbling close to coo like Matthew was the younger one.
His large hands cupped Matthew's neck, and he peppered tiny pecks on Matthew's twin moles then his lips. "Isn't it too subtle for your usual M.O?"
"You're underestimating Teddies." Their fans had keen eyes. Too keen sometimes...
Gunwook hummed into the corner of Matthew's mouth, thumb caressing the jaw beside it.
"Might be in my room, I remember seeing something horrendous when I unpacked Aegia's things the other day--"
That got Matthew biting mercilessly--which always shifted their soft and sweet affection into a battle, fighting for their will in tongue and teeth.
Maybe they can spare ten minutes…
"Oh my god--" A screech of horror separated them. "At least close the door!" Taerae cradled Gia to his chest, palm covering the kitty's face like Gia hadn't seen worse.
Matthew watched in amusement as Taerae narrowed his eyes at Gunwook.
"House rule number 8, thou shall be dressed in company. I am company."
"Meow," Gia agreed in solidarity, paws and claws pried Taerae's hand off, but he made no move to leave his new friend's bosom. Matthew wished he could take a picture.
"Sorry hyung, Matthew is insatiable."
Gunwook's boyish grin returned, and the urge to bite hit Matthew again. He resisted.
"Takes two to tango, babe." Matthew smacked Gunwook's ass when Gunwook slipped away with a laugh.
"Whatever. There's food if you two are done frolicking." Rolling his eyes, Taerae left, huffing and puffing.
("Is that what you deal with?" "Meow!" "You poor thing...Should we go live with Hanbin-hyung?")
Taerae's voice floated outside as Gunwook picked a pair of sweats in the hamper.
Dragging the cotton up his legs slowly, Gunwook kept their gazes locked when the waistband snagged at the front. It felt like a punishment.
"I'll look for the shirt. Go get our child before he moves out." Gunwook said, smile all knowing.
Yeah, Matthew was definitely busted.
(The phone was left behind.
They had a standing buffet at the kitchen's island--with Taerae rattling off house rules, Gunwook nodding absentmindedly while half-chewing half-steaming Matthew's shirt.
Matthew kissed Gia's head, smiling and feeling more at home.)