The late afternoon sun painted the living room in warm, dusty hues. Seungmin sat on the sofa, a book open on his lap, but his eyes weren't on the words. Instead, they drifted to Jihoon, who was humming softly in the kitchen, making tea. The mundane sound, the simple act of him being there, filled Seungmin with a quiet contentment that was becoming increasingly familiar and increasingly necessary.
My apartment feels more like home when he's here, Seungmin thought, the idea settling in his chest like a warm stone. It wasn't just the shared meals or the way Jihoon left his mug on the coffee table (a small, endearing messiness Seungmin had come to tolerate, even appreciate). It was the ease of it, the way the silence between them wasn't empty but comfortable. It was the feeling of a missing piece slotting into place.
He'd started noticing it more and more lately. Reaching for his phone to text Jihoon about something trivial, only to realize he was already across the room. Planning his weekends around their time together, not as an obligation, but as the natural progression of his own desires. The thought of going back to the way things were before, to his solitary routine, felt… bleak.
The clinking of mugs brought Seungmin back to the present. Jihoon emerged from the kitchen, two steaming cups in hand. He handed one to Seungmin with a small smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
Jihoon settled beside him on the sofa, the cushion dipping slightly under his weight. The air between them hummed with a comfortable silence, broken only by the soft sips of their tea.
This is it, Jihoon thought, taking a slow breath. This is what feels right. He watched Seungmin, the way the light caught the dust motes dancing around his head, the focused line of his brow even when he wasn't truly reading. There was a sense of peace he only found when he was with Seungmin. The anxieties of the day seemed to fade, replaced by a quiet certainty.
He'd been thinking about it for weeks, the idea of living together. At first, it was just a fleeting thought, a pleasant daydream. But it had grown, taking root and blossoming into a genuine desire. He imagined waking up next to Seungmin every morning, sharing breakfast, and navigating the small, everyday moments of life side-by-side. It wasn't about escaping anything; it was about building something more.
He knew Seungmin was more reserved, more likely to analyze things from every angle. He wouldn't just jump into something like this. Jihoon's stomach fluttered with a mix of hope and nervousness. What if Seungmin didn't feel the same way? What if the idea scared him?
He set his mug down on the coffee table, the clink sounding loud in the quiet room. He turned to face Seungmin, his heart thudding a little faster.
"Seungmin," he said softly, his voice a little hesitant.
Seungmin closed his book, placing it carefully on the table. He turned to Jihoon, his expression open and questioning. "Yeah?"
Jihoon took another breath. This was it. There's no turning back now. "I... I've been thinking about something."
Seungmin waited, his gaze steady.
"About us," Jihoon continued, his voice gaining a little more confidence. "About... about the future."
He saw a flicker of curiosity in Seungmin's eyes. "Okay," Seungmin prompted quietly.
"I know it's a big step," Jihoon said, choosing his words carefully. "And I don't want to pressure you at all. But... I was wondering... if you've ever thought about... living together?"
The question hung in the air, heavy and significant. Jihoon watched Seungmin's face, searching for a reaction. Seungmin's eyes widened almost imperceptibly, and a faint blush rose in his cheeks.
Seungmin's mind raced. He hadn't expected Jihoon to say it first. The thought had been circling in his own head, a quiet yearning he hadn't quite articulated, even to himself. Hearing Jihoon voice it, so simply and directly, felt like a key turning in a lock.
He wants this too, Seungmin thought, a wave of warmth spreading through him. The fear he'd felt earlier, the anxiety about the unknown, began to recede, replaced by a sense of possibility.
He looked at Jihoon, at the hopeful anticipation in his eyes, and a genuine smile finally touched Seungmin's lips. It wasn't a grand, dramatic smile but a soft, heartfelt one.
"Jihoon," Seungmin said, his voice just as quiet as Jihoon's had been. "I... I have thought about it."
Relief washed over Jihoon's face, his shoulders visibly relaxing. "You have?" he breathed, a small, hopeful smile mirroring Seungmin's.
Seungmin nodded, his gaze meeting Jihoon's. "More than you know, probably." He hesitated for a moment, then continued, the words flowing a little more easily now. "My apartment feels... empty when you're not here. And... and I like having you around. A lot."
It was a quiet admission, but for Seungmin, it was a significant one. He wasn't one for grand declarations, but the sincerity in his voice was unmistakable.
Jihoon's smile widened, his eyes shining. He reached out and gently took Seungmin's hand, his fingers intertwining with his. "I feel the same way, Seungmin. More than you know."
The quiet conversation continued, not with detailed plans or logistical discussions yet, but with a shared understanding, a mutual desire. They talked about the feeling of wanting to build something more, of wanting their lives to be more intertwined. There were still questions, still potential hurdles, but in that moment, the overwhelming feeling was one of shared intention.
As the last rays of sun faded outside, casting long shadows across the room, Seungmin squeezed Jihoon's hand. The desire to live together, once a quiet, individual thought, had become a shared hope, a silent promise whispered in the fading light. The decision wasn't fully made, the details were still to come, but the seed had been planted, and in the quiet comfort of their shared space, it felt like it had already begun to grow.