TEN
Jaeyong’s facing away from me, looking towards the screen, his broad back leaning into the pillow I’ve clutched around my middle. I hold my breath, keeping still as can be, as he starts moving, pulling his legs up onto the couch, bending at the knees, not enough space for him to really stretch out, one arm pillowing his head on my freaking thigh.
He’s also really, really warm, his clothes still clinging to the odd scent of his cologne—something I can’t place but reminds me of citrus—and some soju if I’m picking it up right. He groans deep in his chest, trying to get comfy, and then finally settles and I’m afraid to move, afraid to even breathe so I don’t wake him up.
I’ve slept on this couch already, yeah, and it’s not the most comfortable, but I also didn’t wake up with any kind of
