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Sanghyuk can only assume that the blood that's rushing to Woonhak's head will have effect over him sooner or later, a specific type of dizziness that will have the younger boy sitting up from where he lays on his bed, head hanging off in what looks to be an uncomfortable position. Sanghyuk is curious as to how long Woonhak can hold out, upside down, face turning a slightly concerning shade of red.
Sanghyuk is perched in front of him, back pressed against the wall behind him. The floor he sits on is cold, the chill reaching Sanghyuk even through the grey sweatpants he wears. He had been attempting to read a book, although it is now discarded in his lap, haphazardly set aside in order to better focus on whatever it is the other boy in the room is doing.
It has been what Sanghyuk can only assume to be approximately two minutes since Woonhak has put himself in this position, and he seems to have no intention to move anytime soon.
He sighs, fingers tapping idly on the cover of the long forgotten book in his lap, “How long do you plan on staying upside down for?”
Woonhaks eyes flit over to Sanghyuk, “Why do you care?” He avoids the question because, of course he does, the little shit, Sanghyuk rolls his eyes.
“I'm trying to read.” The color of Woonhak's face continues to deepen, almost terrifying to look at in a way and Sanghyuk grimaces, displeased.
“You're the one who chose my room to–” Woonhak's voice comes out in a strangled grunt and he pauses to inhale through his nose, “My room to–to read in, hyung.” He squints, face scrunched up in a way that proves to Sanghyuk that this little experiment of Woonhaks is nothing but painful.
Sanghyuk purses his lips, “You look stupid.” He takes in the way Woonhak's lips form a pout.
“Whatever.” The boy mutters, annoyed, and yet the words must have urged something in him because he finally moves, sliding himself off of the bed and onto the hardwood floor with a loud thump.
Sanghyuk blinks a few times, finds himself staring down at the pile of boy placed before him, all six feet accounted for; Mussed brown hair, oversized sweatshirt and basketball shorts so well worn that the logo has faded from the fabric, all bits and pieces of Woonhak spread so casually across the floor. His arm is strewn across his eyes and short puffs of air leave his lips in what looks to be a frantic manner.
Sanghyuk stretches his sock clad foot out–uses it to jab the side of Woonhak's stomach–and huffs out a disbelieving laugh, “You good?”
Woonhak lifts his arm from his face, the red having finally dispersed enough to leave behind only a soft shade of pink to tint his cheeks, “I'm great.” He brings his hand down to wrap around the bare skin of Sanghyuks ankle, warm skin against cold skin and Sanghyuk sinks into the feeling: basks in the warmth of his touch.
He opens his mouth before he can think to do anything else, “Your hands are so warm–mhm–feels nice.”
Woonhak smiles up at him from where he still lays on the floor, eyes glinting with an emotion that Sanghyuk can't quite decipher, a mix between amusement and something else entirely, “Yeah?” His thumb moves against the skin of Sanghyuks ankle, gently rubbing circles around the protruding shape of his ankle bone.
Sanghyuk lets out a breath of air, leans his head back against the wall and lets his eyes fall shut, “Yeah. I'm freezing.” It's peaceful, the soft touch, the quiet in the room only disrupted by soft huffs of air escaping two sets of lungs.
However it only lasts a second before Sanghyuk feels a yank, a firm tug on his ankle that has his body sliding forward unprepared. His eyes fly open, “Woonhak–” He struggles to keep himself upright, “Hold on!” The younger boy heeds him no mind and continues to pull at his hyung, Sanghyuk having no choice but to be dragged over to Woonhak and tugged right on top of him, chest hovering above chest.
His hands land on either side of Woonhak's head, their legs intertwined as he holds himself up above the boy. He breathes out, eyes wide, “What was that for?”
Woonhak blinks up at him, soft smile and twinkling brown eyes on full display, “You said you were cold.” His arms travel up to rest their hands on Sanghyuk’s waist, taking up space as if the spot was Woonhak's to touch, his to own.
Sanghyuk can't find it in himself to correct him, in fact he savors it, takes pleasure in the idea of Woonhak finding his place fitted in with Sanghyuk with no struggle at all.
There's an inherently addicting aspect to being loved by Kim Woonhak, something that of an undiscovered drug. Sanghyuk feels it most in moments like this; skin against skin, breath intermingling as the two of them stare from only a short distance away, lips aching to move closer and closer until there's nothing but the taste of each other on their tongues.
Sanghyuk is the first to give in: he leans down, letting his lips brush against the slightly dry lips in contrast to his own, below him. It's an easy fix as he finds himself wasting no time in dragging his tongue along Woonhaks lips, wetting them with his own touch.
Woonhak responds with equal fervor, parts his lips, pulls Sanghyuk down by the hips in order for them to be flush against each other. It's an electrifying feeling to be this close.
Loving Kim Woonhak is dizzying, and Sanghyuk wonders if the feeling would equate to laying upside down. Perhaps he was too quick to judge his boyfriend's antics earlier, because if the rush is anything similar to what Sanghyuk feels right now, he'd understand the appeal, the ache to do something stupid in order to feel the most.
They kiss like this for a bit before Sanghyuk pulls back, stares down at the boy that is just as much his as Sanghyuk is Woonhak's.
It's here, in this moment, Woonhak's lips kiss bitten and red, eyes half shut and gazing up at Sanghyuk like he's looking at something worthy of gentleness, does Sanghyuk realize something overbearingly important. It courses through him, leaves him shaky as he brings one hand up to Woonhak's face, traces his fingertips along the flutter of Woonhak's eyelashes.
Woonhak’s heart is filled with love to the point that it'd be impossible for it to not be returned to him tenfold.
The world is going to love him and Sanghyuk can only hope to wrap the younger boy's heart in his palms carefully–to protect him from the lashings that linger by ‘loves’ side–as the world gives him what rightfully is his.
Oh how Sanghyuk wishes to have him all for himself, to stay in this moment forever, far from prying eyes and words that yell to reach their ears.
It's an impossible wish, no amount of shooting stars will take away the fact that Woonhak was born to be on the stage, destined to be loved, and forever cursed for Sanghyuk to have to share.