between the hectic, busy schedules and constantly being shuffled along from one performance stage to the next, chanyeol still manages to catch jongin off guard and surprise him with a small valentine’s event that chanyeol had spent every spare moment planning in the past few weeks.

jongin can’t help the wide smile spreading across his face as he follows the little path of white candles and bright red rose petals sprinkled along the wooden floors of their empty dorm, the trail ending in the dining room where chanyeol is standing by the dinner table with a huge teddy bear half his size, a giant pink velvet bow tied around the stuffed animal’s neck.

“what is this?” jongin grins as he glances down at the fancy steak dinner for two, eyes traveling over the delicate silverware and the bottle of wine settled off to the side. a warm, bubbly feeling tingles throughout his chest, radiating out all the way down his arms and legs to the tips of his fingers and toes.

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chanyeol buries his face into the neatly stacked piles of frozen corn, clamping his teeth down on one of the plastic bags to bite back the loud moan that threatens to escape his throat. his fingers dig into the cold, metal shelves, knuckles turning white from the pressure of his grip, as jongin’s open hand comes down hard on the curve of his ass with a resounding slap.

“fuck,” chanyeol whimpers as he feels the sharp, ringing sting where jongin’s hand had just made contact, leaving behind a bright red imprint that glows so very nicely against his pale, creamy skin. “shit, faster,” chanyeol moans, pressing up eagerly to meet with jongin’s thrusts. “i can’t… i hear… see,” he mumbles incoherently, unable to string two words together.

there’s definitely people on the other side of that door.

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there was once a time when kyungsoo thought he understood the world, when he could depend on everything to be set within the borders of a bold black outline. and each individual color that filled up the blank areas in between stayed within their boundaries, dependable, predictable, all simple, basic colors you’d be able to find in a children’s box of crayons.

everything from the straightedge lines of his heat pressed stefano ricci dress shirts, to the symmetrically stacked manila folders piled neatly across his parnian power desk, the almost obsessively compulsive uniformity of the black and gray color scheme of his million dollar penthouse suite, kyungsoo had always been safe in the knowledge of routine and constancy, normality, the invariable pattern of the way the earth rotates on a set axis, day in and day out, month by month, year by year.

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