chanyeol lowers himself onto one knee before jongin, a royal blue, silky velvet box carefully held in both hands containing a simple but flawlessly pristine gold band that sets off a faint shimmer with the smallest of movements.

“aww,” luhan croons from the side, falling into minseok’s shoulder and squeezing the living daylights out of the older boy as sehun tries to push his hyungs away from toppling over onto his lap.

zitao buries his face into his thick, cable-knitted scarf, hiding the faint blush spreading across his cheeks as baekhyun jabs a finger into his side, making zitao jolt out of his hiding place, flailing his arms to ward off the elder from his personal space.

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