Chapter Text
Reality starts to seep into Jeongguk as the man drifts back into consciousness, floods of light spilling into his vision the second his eyes flutter open. He lets out a quiet groan, shifting to ease the growing discomfort of his body that currently felt like it was just one flimsy thread away from just breaking in half. That’s when he registers the heavy limb on him, and memories of the previous night flashing through his brain like images on a slideshow, disgust creeping up his veins. He just pushes the arm off, and thankfully, the man next to him seems to be a heavy sleeper, not moving an inch as Jeongguk makes the withdrawal from the warm confines of the bed.
It took the brunette no time to figure out which door led to the bathroom. He’s quick to start the shower at the highest temperature possible, already wanting to burn every inch of his skin off- just like he desires every single time.
Jeongguk didn’t like this. He didn’t like waking up in a different bed every night. He didn’t like the nasty, ravenous looks older men gave him when they saw him on the streets. He didn’t like how they waved their money suggestively, an invisible rope tugging the brunette’s body towards the tacky pieces of paper.
But he had to pretend that he liked it, loved it even. He had to pretend, because his life depended on it- on the money.
It wasn’t like he could just go out and get a proper job, not when his home address was currently the streets of Seoul, when his bed was whatever looked comfortable enough in the dark alleyways. Not when his showers depended on whether his siren calls worked that night, luring in a man deprived of affection in his shitty marriage. Not when whether or not he was going to eat the next day depended on how well he could use his mouth the night before.
He needed to pretend so that he could live , even with the constant lingering question in the back of his mind- what was he living for , exactly?
Because when Jeongguk takes one look at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, at the dark bags under his eyes, at the way his cheeks had sunken in to the point where he looked like a walking corpse, at the way his collar bone protruded from his skin so much that it looked like it would burst of his skin at any second, he has to ask himself- was he really even living at this point?
He was surviving, at most. That was it. He hadn’t lived in months, years. He couldn’t remember the last time his eyes didn’t look so dull. Or the last time his smile caused crinkles in his skin and indentations in his cheeks. Or the last time his laughter didn’t sound like a broken, discordant piano. Or the last time he felt truly happy.
The only sense of living Jeongguk felt was when he stood under the scorching hot water of the shower, letting the piercing sensation numb him. He lets the water wash over him, not even recoiling a mere centimeter when the fiery heat makes contact with his fresh cuts. They’re tender, the raised skin a dull red as they begin to heal. He wishes he brought his backpack in, his fingers itching for the small metal rectangle to be in his grasp again. He craves it- needs the pain and the comfort to distract him from his thoughts. Needs the bright red to coat his skin, to take his eyes off the milky pale color his skin has turned to. Needs the sting on the outside to take his attention away from the sting on the inside, the constant reminder that he was alive, and had feelings, emotions that he didn’t want.
But he doesn’t want to waste any more time than he’s already had, so he washes up, being mindful with the products he used. And once he’s clean, no longer feeling the phantom touches of the man from the night before, the water’s off, his body chilling with the exposure to the frosty air of the room. He dries himself off with yesterday’s shirt, and puts on the cleanest clothes he currently had in his backpack, which wasn’t the grandest of outfits- a black v-neck, fitted with jeans that hugged his ass just right, perfect for attracting the roaming eyes of his next free bed. He double checks that everything’s in his bag, and kisses the top of Gureum’s- his stuffed, white dog- head, and pockets the money the man left on the nightstand for him. Jeongguk tiptoes out of the room, and finds his jacket laid on the couch where the two had carelessly thrown it the prior evening, and tugs it on, the comfort of his favorite jacket on his body nulling some of the rising anxiety he’s always felt at all times. He finds his worn out combat boots by the door, and after tying them on, he’s out, breathing out a sigh of relief once he’s a few blocks down.
The sun’s just starting to rise when he leaves, so he stops for a moment, watching the spills and splashes of colors merge together as the sun comes out to greet the lively residents of Seoul with absolute awe in his eyes.
This was why he lived, and as minor as it seemed- he didn’t care. It was the small reasons, these smell the roses moments that kept him going, hoping for a better future.
It was the sunrises. The sunsets. The sound of a baby laughing. The way a dog’s tail practically vibrated when it was excited. These moments when the sky has just the right amount of soft white with that beautiful blue backdrop. The sound of heavy rain on the roof. The heat of a steaming bowl of ramyun. The smell of freshly brewed coffee ( even though he hates drinking it! ) in his favorite cafe.
At the thought of the cafe, Jeongguk quickly pulls out the new wad of cash, counting it and smiles to himself. He could treat himself to a steaming hot cup of tea. (And a chance to see the cute barista who worked there, but he wasn’t about to admit that to himself.)
He’s familiar with the way to the city, hardly calling it a walk of shame at this point. It’s more of a walk of realization. A walk of reassurance. A walk of hope .
He walks the familiar street, recognizing the walls of colors and signs of neon serving as a backdrop for the restless troupe of the city. In the midst of all the chaos, a small, rustic brick building sat, nestled in between two larger, modern ones. Jeongguk makes his way inside, instantly greeted with the warm aroma of coffee and fresh pastries.
There he is, in all his glory- Seokjin , the handwritten name tag says. Jeongguk’s a frequent customer, about as frequent he could be with the limited amount of money he has. Even with his frequency, the older man is always greeting him with a tender smile every time, claiming the familiarity of the warm, doe eyes and the bunny teeth smile is always a bright part of his day. They don’t even know each other that well, only really crossing paths whenever Jeongguk comes to get his favorite, inexpensive cup of tea- but that doesn’t stop Jeongguk from being Seokjin’s favorite customer, his order ready before he even makes it to the counter.
After a while of short conversations and shared smiles and “accidental” eye contact, Jeongguk started to convince himself that he’s letting his little crush get to his head too much, and that Seokjin’s just doing his job when he’s friendly to the younger. But he still lets himself dream anyways, seeing no harm in allowing a little light to shine in the deep, dark tunnels of his mind. It’s a flashlight at best, but a light regardless that leads away the endless trains of thoughts that keeps Jeongguk up at night.
“Jeonggukah! Your usual?” Seokjin smiles, and before Jeongguk could even control himself his cheeks blushed a dusty rose, tongue fumbling over his words as he said “ yes, Seokjin-ssi.” The barista shoots him an endeared grin, and he pours the steaming concoction into a cup, already sliding it over with exercised precision before the brunette is even handing over the cash.
“Come again soon!” The barista’s smile is still as warm as ever, and Jeongguk has to fight the urge to giggle, a giddy feeling floating from his stomach through his heart straight to his brain. Even as he sits in his usual corner of the small cafe, he still doesn’t take his eye off Seokjin. He knows, realistically, he has no chance- honestly, who wants to date him?
But he lets himself dream. He lets himself have false hope and fake realities, lets his imagination run wild to cope with the thoughts that constantly trapped him in a box, the voice that persistently drove him to near hysteria as he relied on self inflicted pain to hold onto his sanity by fingertips.
So as he sipped his tea and watched the busy blurs of people on the streets, he let his mind drift off. He allows his fantasies to play out, and put his thoughts at bay. He lets himself think, dream, believe.
And by the time he snaps back to reality, his tea’s long gone, heart and mind fully content and warm, ready to tackle another round of surviving.
Cause that’s all life was- a game. And each day was a round, a test to see if Jeongguk could win another one. Sometimes Jeongguk wants to give up and lose, to see the glory of the game over status marked next to his life. Sometimes Jeongguk wants to not make it to the next round, to stop playing entirely.
But despite his wants, he still plays the game. He makes it to the next round. And he celebrates the little victories because if he didn’t, what was there to celebrate?
He leaves the cafe feeling refreshed, the promise to come back as soon as he has more money still at the forefront of his mind.
But he never fulfills that promise.
Over the next few weeks, the air grows colder. The clusters of footprints on the snow-laden streets became far and few in between, life slowly dwindling down as the gelidity of the visiting winter settled down in the city.
It grew harder for Jeongguk to scrape by, the brunette forced to camp by restaurants and wait for dumpsters to be filled with the aftermaths of their busy days. His worn out down coat and hoodie barely brings any warmth to his body, fingers constantly numb and frozen to the touch, even when he desperately tries to warm them up with the heat of his breath. He’s grown used to the constant shivering and chattering of his teeth, to the misty appearance of his hot breath in the cold air.
But the one thing Jeongguk prides himself on is his body’s ability to fight off infections and sickness like they were skinny, lanky teenagers up against the high school jock of Jeongguk’s body. He surprises himself sometimes with how easily he curbs illnesses. He figures it must have something to do with his life on the streets, his body steadily building immunity to the silently deadly world.
That’s why it shocks Jeongguk when he gets sick, if the telltale signs of his scratchy throat and heated skin were any indication of his physical condition. His body grows weaker and weaker with each passing day, and most of the time he’s stationary, curled up under his blanket in the dark depths of an alleyway. The brunette supposed his weak state had to do with the harsh winter chill seeping deep into his bones, with the lack of food in his system, and the stress of finding a warm body for the night wearing down on his mind. Jeongguk’s eating less and less as time goes by, his last meal having been cup ramen in a convenience store four days ago. He eyes the change in his hand, and there’s only one thing that comes to his lethargic mind.
So with all the strength he could muster, Jeongguk pushes himself onto his legs, nearly falling with just how little energy he had. He somehow manages to make his way to the cafe. He hadn’t been there in a while, his supply of cash slowly diminishing as he fed himself just enough to not starve, but he wanted to treat himself one last time, to see him one last time before he hopefully succumbed to the clutch of whatever sickness was combing through his veins.
And right there, just like every single time he’s stepped into the cafe, is Seokjin, smiling as wide as ever, greeting each customer with warm eyes as he takes their orders. He makes the drinks with practiced ease, even sneaking in a trick or two to wow the little kids whose curious eyes peered over the countertop. Jeongguk’s immediately engulfed in the warmth of the shop, in the aroma of the bitter drink and fresh pastries, and he doesn’t feel so tense anymore.
When it’s Jeongguk’s turn to order, their eyes lock, and immediately, Seokjin’s eyes flood with concern. Jeongguk didn’t blame him- he looked sickly, his eyes drooping with bags dark and heavy underneath them. He hadn’t been able to shower, so his hair was practically a nest, messy and sticking up in directions that made it look like someone had rubbed a balloon all over his head. He looked smaller and skinnier, the results of being sick and not eating properly really taking a toll on his body.
“Hey there… Haven’t seen you in a while, everything alright?” And Jeongguk wants to cry , because Seokjin’s voice is as soft as he looks, clad in a fluffy pink sweater, his wavy brown locks falling over his eyes, looking just as fluffy as his sweater.
“Yeah.” Damn, was that his own voice? It sounded scratchy, hoarse from disuse. It’s clear Seokjin’s surprised at the sudden grittiness, if the way his eyebrows rose were any indication, but he doesn’t really say anything.
“I’ll get you that tea, yeah? Why don’t you take a seat, I’ll bring it to you.” His voice is gentle as ever, smile so tender Jeongguk wants to melt into the floor. But he drags himself away from the counter with a nod instead, finding his usual seat on shaky, dragging legs. Some of the other customers are looking at him weirdly, but he ignores them all, his head too fuzzy to even care about anything. Then, in the slow blink of an eye, there’s a cup in front of him, and a biscuit. He lifts his heavy head to see Seokjin, the barista looking at him with concern still.
“Here. They’re both on the house,” Seokjin says before heading back.
The barista never takes his eyes off the brunette, even as he’s back behind the counter, body on autopilot when he carries out the rest of the shift. He grows even more concerned when the younger doesn’t even lift a finger, his eyes glazed and unfocused on the items in front of him. Seokjin wants to talk to him again, to see what’s wrong, to see why he looked so sick and on the edge of death, to see why Jeongguk had stopped coming for nearly six weeks now.
Logically, he knows that not everyone comes to the same spot a few times a week. Logically, he knows that people have lives outside of frequenting a cafe. Logically, he knows that. But there was something about Jeongguk, something that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. There was just something about the brunette that made his protective instincts kick in, that made his older brother mode go into full hard drive. He doesn’t know if it was the big, doe eyes that held so much, yet showed so little. He doesn’t know if it was the way that Jeongguk looked so young, yet looked as if he'd seen a lifetime of wars.
He had been drawn to Jeongguk the minute he stepped foot inside the cafe. The teen looked a few years younger than Seokjin, yet the way he carried himself looked as if he had lived years longer. It wasn’t an attraction- it was more like a want, a need to take care of the other. Seokjin supposed it came with being an elder brother of two, and with being the eldest of his five boyfriends- yes, five boyfriends, all of whom he loved dearly- and constantly taking over a more dominant, caretaker role in any relationship he’s ever had, platonic or romantic. Seokjin couldn’t help it- there was just something about the satisfaction that he gets knowing he took care of someone, knowing that someone would willingly give up their control to him and just let him take care of them. Sometimes the satisfaction is sexual, like when his boyfriends let him have control in the bedroom- though if he’s being honest, he likes being controlled more. But sometimes the satisfaction is purely just a feeling of happiness, because he feels a sense of purpose and worth.
That’s why when he saw the skinny, shy, curious doe eyed teenager step foot inside the busy cafe nearly eight months ago, he was hit with the sudden urge to take the teenager under his wing, to take care of him. But he pushed these thoughts, these feelings down, and instead, served his requested drink with a warm smile and tender eyes.
When Jeongguk hadn’t shown up for nearly a month and a half, he started to worry. The brunette always came at least once a week, sometimes twice. But even with his growing concern, he did his job with ease, forcing himself not to spend half his day glancing at the entrance every time the little bell rang with each swing of the door.
So when Jeongguk finally appeared, Seokjin couldn’t help the little lurch that his heart did into his stomach at the sight of the brunette. He was skinnier than he remembered, and his eyes looked like they were being held open by a mere tug of strings. He definitely looked like he was bound to fall at any minute, and was that dirt in his hair?
Seokjin couldn’t help the uneasy feeling that loomed over him the rest of his shift, not being able to focus with the nearly unconscious teen mere feets away from him. He couldn’t help the prickling under his skin, the urge to help, to take care of Jeongguk burying itself in streams of thoughts at the front of his mind.
When his shift was over, he found himself walking over to Jeongguk, and that’s when he really took a good look at the teenager. His skin had a pale, yellow tint to it, lips uncharacteristically a shade of blue. He looked like his head was weighing him down, barely able to keep it up.
“Jeonggukah? Are you alright?” He asks, voice soft and quiet compared to the loud chatter of the crowd behind him. Jeongguk makes no move, makes no sound to imply his recognition of the elder.
“Jeonggukah?” Seokjin tries again, and that’s when Jeongguk’s head droops low, chin practically touching his chest. The barista’s looming feeling returns at full force, and he reaches a tentative hand out, fingers brushing just against the younger’s cheeks. He instantly recoils, Jeongguk’s skin burning to the touch, and he shakes the teen with a hand on his shoulder, his anxiety growing when the other doesn’t awaken.
“Jeonggukah?” Seokjin tries for a final time, and fuck it, he’s not waking up. So Seokjin just went with the first thought that popped into mind- he lifts Jeongguk up, feeling his heart sink when he registers just how light the brunette was in his arms, barely weighing more than a couple of textbooks. He notices the backpack perched against the table, and takes it, surprised at how easily he could support the unconscious teen with one arm. Sure, he’s strong, spending a lot of time at the gym mostly working on his strength and stamina, but he still shouldn’t be able to carry a full grown teenager with just one arm.
Thankfully, people were too caught up in their own businesses to even spare a glance towards the fact that there’s a grown man carrying a small teenager, which, honestly, worried Seokjin- what would’ve happened if he left Jeongguk here?
His head shakes with the ejection of that thought, not wanting to even consider any possibilities. Right now, his focus was on Jeongguk, and hopefully- getting him awake. It’s a blessing that his car wasn’t parked far, and his house wasn’t far either, so he makes it home in less than ten minutes, Jeongguk barely stirring once. Seokjin contemplated taking the younger to the hospital, but decided against it- what would happen if he left him there? Would they be able to take care of him? Would Jeongguk be able to afford the care? Wait, would anyone come looking for him? Does he even have a home?
Oh god, is he homeless?
Seokjin looks at the brunette with wide eyes. It would explain everything- the possibility that Jeongguk is homeless. Come to think of it, he’s only ever seen him in the same two shirts. He’s too skinny to be someone who eats on a daily basis, and Seokjin has never seen anyone come in with Jeongguk.
Fuck.
Before taking the teenager out of the passenger’s seat, Seokjin pressed a hand to his forehead. Yup, still burning the fuck up. With barely any effort he takes Jeongguk inside, the lack of noise telling him that he was the first one home out of all his boyfriends. This was great, he had plenty of time to focus on somehow waking Jeongguk up before thinking of how to tell his boyfriends that hey, I’m kind of attached to this kid and he passed out at my work and I think he’s really sick and probably homeless, so I brought him home to take care of him.
Maybe not those exact words.
He lays Jeongguk on the couch, taking the other’s jacket off. When he squeezes the sleeves, he frowns. In the coming harsh winter, the jacket would’ve barely kept Jeongguk warm. Well, that explains why he got sick in the first place.
“Okay, he has a fever,” he starts mumbling to himself, “gotta bring that down first.” So he grabs a random bowl from the kitchen and a clean washcloth from the storage closet by the bathroom, filling the bowl with cold water and dunking the cloth into it. Jeongguk was still on the couch in the exact position he had left him, laid down on his back. Thoughts start to flood into his head at the sight of the still unconscious teenager.
Should I lay him on his side? What if he chokes? What if he throws up on himself? Okay Seokjin, chill. You’ve taken care of fucking Min Yoongi with pneumonia before, you can handle a sick teenager. He chuckles at the thought of his most stubborn boyfriend, a man who absolutely refused the care of Seokjin, even during a time where he could barely take a step without collapsing.
Kneeling on the floor next to the couch, Seokjin takes the washcloth out of the bowl, wringing out the excess water. He presses the cool cloth to the brunette’s heated skin, dabbing gently all over his face and neck. Before long, Jeongguk starts to stir, and Seokjin’s instantly pressing the cloth with a bit more pressure on the back of his neck.
“Hmm, where am I?” Jeongguk’s words rolled on top of each other. It’s obvious he’s delirious and barely awake, with the way his tongue was thick and heavy in his words, and the way his eyes were barely more than slits on his face.
“My house. I brought you home, Jeonggukah.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, sir,” Jeongguk slurred, “I’ll get right on it.”
Before Seokjin could ask what Jeongguk was talking about, the brunette was sitting up, his hands falling down to the front of Seokjin’s jeans, fumbling to undo the button. The elder nearly yells, recoiling ten feet back, and the sudden jolt gets Jeongguk fully awake, wide eyes staring at the other in shock.
“Seokjin-ssi?” His voice is barely above a whisper, but Seokjin hears it in the quiet of his house, even with the pounding of his heart going to his ears. They’re staring at each other, eyes as wide as saucers at this point, chests heaving with the sudden pressure they’re both feeling deep down.
“Um,” Seokjin’s voice is shaky as he speaks up, “you’re burning up, still. Why don’t you take a bath? It’ll help. I’ll um, I’ll put out a fresh pair of clothes for you.” He ignores the lump forming in his throat, forcing the millions of questions spilling into his head out in favor of putting all his focus onto Jeongguk. He can see the flabbergasted teenager struggling to get up out of the corner of his eye, so he helps him stand without a word, guiding him to the bathroom, and then once he’s sure the bath is running and Jeongguk is coherent enough, he leaves the teenager to his own devices, making his way towards the three bedrooms that he and his five boyfriends shared.
“Okay, who’s closest to Jeongguk in size?” Seokjin doesn’t know why he talks to himself out loud. Sometimes, it’s easier to collect his thoughts that way. Sometimes, he needs to voice one thought out in order for his brain to produce the next one. Sometimes, he just likes it. “Jiminie is probably the closest, so I’ll steal some pants from him. Fuck, might need some underwear too.” He’s mumbling, rummaging through drawer after drawer. “Maybe Yoongi has some spare ones- he wears the same three pairs anyway, he won’t notice one is missing. And I’ll just give him one of my hoodies, he’s gonna need the warmth.”
Once he gets the clothes, he knocks on the door, hearing a soft “come in” over the splashing of the water. He walks in with his hand over his eyes just for courtesy and the sake of Jeongguk’s comfort, digging in his muscle memory to map out the location of the counter, and he places the clothes on top.
“Here are some clothes. If you want me to wash yours, just let me know. It’s my turn to do the laundry anyways.” And with that, Seokjin leaves Jeongguk alone once again.
Seokjin busies himself with making some soup for the younger, figuring it would be the best bet of getting some food and energy into Jeongguk. He cooks some lightly seasoned beef and cuts up some vegetables, adding them to the boiling pot of stock. He hears rustling behind him, and turns just in time to see Jeongguk collapse on the couch.
“Whoa there,” his voice is gentle as he rushes over to the teenager. He presses his hand against the younger’s forehead, and he’s still hot, but there’s a noticeable improvement. The elder lets out a sigh of relief at that, and gets the washcloth out of the bowl, placing it across Jeongguk’s forehead after wringing the excess water off.
When he notices Jeongguk shivering, Seokjin goes to find a few blankets, and places them on the brunette’s body, feeling his heart melt at just how small Jeongguk looked engulfed in the mass of layers on him. He looked so young, too young to be facing the kind of life he was in. He couldn’t have been more than eighteen, could he? He definitely looked younger than Taehyung, that’s for sure.
He’d ask Jeongguk questions later. Right now, his main focus was on getting the teen healthy again. Seokjin goes into the elder residents’ bathroom, rummaging through the several unorganized cabinets for medicine of any sort before remembering- they had used all the medicine up when Namjoon got sick last month.
Fuck , he internally cursed. He couldn’t leave to go get more, he didn’t want to risk the possibility of Jeongguk freaking out because he woke up to an empty house, or worse, to five strangers who didn’t even know why there was a sick teenager on their couch.
He decides to text Yoongi instead, knowing the second eldest would be the least likely to ask questions.
can u pick up some cold medicine and fever reducers on ur way home from work? thanks xx
Tucking his phone back in his pocket, he heads back to the kitchen, tasting the stew to make sure it was done simmering. It tasted perfect, so he prepares a bowl, and fixes a cup of tea as well. It wasn’t close to what the cafe serves, but it’ll do for now.
With the bowl and cup in hand Seokjin makes his way back to the living room. Jeongguk’s eyes are closed, but he was awake, judging by how quickly he opened them with the dip of the couch. They closed just as fast as they opened though, and Jeongguk let out a soft groan, whimpering as he curled up underneath the swarm of blankets. Seokjin’s heart sank at the noise- he didn’t want the younger to be in any pain.
“What hurts, Ggukah?” Jeongguk points to his head, and Seokjin nods in understanding, setting the cup and the bowl on the table before making his way back to the bathroom. He finds some painkillers thankfully, and he heads back with two in hand.
“Here, these should help. It’s ibuprofen.”
Jeongguk doesn’t move.
“Please. They’ll help with your pain, hun.”
Jeongguk doesn’t open his eyes, but he lifts his head from where it was hiding under the covers, hand reaching out blindly. Seokjin puts the pills in his open hand, and Jeongguk immediately downs them, taking the water Seokjin had brought out earlier.
“I made you some stew as well. Will you eat?” He gets a small nod in return, and now Jeongguk is sitting up, body still trapped under the layers of blankets.
“Open your mouth, honey.” And if Seokjin sees the blush that creeps onto Jeongguk’s cheeks, he doesn’t say anything, just feeding spoonfuls of stew into Jeongguk’s open mouth. The teenager eventually opens his eyes, stealing timid glances at Seokjin as he eats. He was hoping Seokjin didn’t notice, but he does, shooting him small smiles every time they lock eyes.
Jeongguk finishes the soup in no time, and Seokjin can see the glint in his eyes, notices the way his mouth opens and closes, almost as if he wanted to say something. Seokjin’s about to ask him to speak up when he notices the way the younger’s eyes flicker to the bowl.
“Do you want more, baby?” The affectionate name slips out, and Jeongguk looks at him with wide eyes, and oh , Seokjin’s heart skips a beat. The doe brown eyes sparkled and shone brightly, even under the dim lighting of the lamp next to them. His long, unkempt fringe fell over his eyes as he nodded, a shy smile tugging at the corners of his lips. His cheeks are flushed red, most likely from the fever, but Seokjin could just tell the name had an effect on him. He smiles, already planning to use the name with Jeongguk a lot more.
Seokjin had to quite literally force himself off the couch to get more stew, wanting to just stare at Jeongguk a little longer. He was just so adorable- shy smiles and big, sparkling eyes, and Seokjin had the overwhelming urge to just hold him tight and never let go.
“Here you go.” There’s just something so warm and domestic in the air as Seokjin feeds Jeongguk, the elder so helplessly endeared by the way Jeongguk’s eyes would widen as he opens his mouth, going cross eyed trying to follow the spoon. And when he closes his mouth to swallow, there’s little dimples that appear just above the corners of his lips, and Seokjin just wants to melt , to never let Jeongguk out of his sight.
“Full now?” He asks when the bowl is empty once again, and a satisfied smile spreads on his face at the nod he gets in reply.
Seokjin could see that Jeongguk was exhausted, his eyes slowly closing and his head drooping, so he just fixes the blankets, adjusting the top one so that it was up to Jeongguk’s nose. The brunette’s head starts to loll, and soon enough, he’s knocked out, soft snores spilling out of his parted mouth.
“Sleep now, baby.”