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You push the door shut quickly with your foot, shivering slightly as a gust of wind blows inside your shared apartment. It’s been unusually cold this week, with temperatures reaching below 30°F, which means days and days of thick sweaters and staying inside.
But you aren’t complaining. After all, it means less time studying at the library, and more time spent with Junmyeon.
As the semester has progressed, you've been spending less and less time together. Half of the time when you wake up, it's to a sticky note on the bedside table that reads, I had to go to work early, but I'll be back soon! ♡
On some nights, when you get home from the library late, Junmyeon's sound asleep in your bed, curled around a kitty plushie and snoring softly, gripping his glasses in his fist. And every time, it's always been obvious that he was staying up to wait for you.
But, the late night study sessions and hours spent apart were worth it. Now that semester exams are over, you have as much time as you'd like to spend with him, and you’re going to make use of every second.
"I'm home!" you declare, dropping your bag on the coffee table and slipping your feet into house slippers. You don't hear a response, so you pad into the kitchen, where you spot Junmyeon frantically flipping through a cookbook.
His silky dark hair is sticking up around his ears, and he's wearing his thick rimmed black glasses, the ones that Baekhyun always makes fun of him for wearing at home, jokingly calling him hideous. His soft grey hoodie is bunched around his elbows, and even though it's only seven o’clock, Junmyeon is already wearing pajama pants, the ones with little pink bunnies on them. You bought them for him as a gag gift for Christmas, but he stubbornly took a liking to them, and wears them almost every night in the winter.
His nose is scrunched, staring intently at the page of the cookbook he had landed on, finger tapping impatiently. He's so focused that he didn't even notice you coming home.
"What are you doing, Jun?" you say cheerfully, wrapping your arms around his waist and resting your chin on his shoulder. You can feel his comforting warmth through his hoodie, and smile to yourself. You wish you could come home to him like this more often. He really is snuggle-worthy right now.
"I'm trying to decipher this recipe," Junmyeon says, frowning. He turns slightly to look at you, softly rubbing one of your hands that was resting on his stomach. "Do you know how to make Alfredo sauce?"
You giggle. "Junmyeon, you're trying to cook? Why don't we just buy some at the grocery store? You know you aren't the best chef."
You clasp his fingers where they were holding on to yours, to soften the blow. He rolls his eyes, huffing quietly.
"I wanted to make this for you. Don't tell me home cooked ravioli isn't better with homemade sauce." Junmyeon says.
Now you feel kind of bad. He was just trying to do something sweet for the two of you. You pull your hand away from his and step to his side, taking a look at the recipe.
"Well, we need mozzarella. Do we have some in the fridge?" you ask him, reaching for the hair tie on your wrist to tie your hair back. Junmyeon nods and shuffles across the cold tiles to get the cheese. In the meanwhile, you run your finger down the list of ingredients, noticing that he had already gotten them all out. Junmyeon may be endearingly messy, but he’s been a perfectionist for as long as you’ve known him. You’re not surprised that this dinner looks carefully planned out, but it still makes your cheeks flush to think that he’s been so thoughtful.
“All we need to do now is mix them together in a pan, on low heat,” you say, looking up from the page. Junmyeon is already standing in front of the stove, and he reaches for a wooden spoon to stir the cheese and cream together in a bowl. You walk over to help him and turn the dial on the heat, shivering slightly as a blast of hot air hits you from the stove. It was dreadfully chilly outside, and the feeling lingered inside the house.
Junmyeon rests his arm around your shoulders as he stirs the sauce in the pot, looking down at you fondly. He always seems to keep a watchful eye on you, and tonight is no exception. You're really so lucky to have someone as caring as him by your side.
The timer on the rusty kitchen clock beeps loudly, right as the sauce is beginning to boil over in the pot. You quickly add in the ravioli and stir it into the sauce, resetting the timer and leaning back into Junmyeon’s arms. His chest is firm and broad, and his bangs tickle your forehead as he smushes his face into your hair, sighing.
“Why are we always too busy to rest like this?” he murmurs, fingers clenching on your wrists. Your heart twinges for a long second, and words don’t come to your mouth right away. You don’t have any excuses to offer him, because he already knows you well enough to know how dedicated you are to university, and becoming successful. He knows just how hard you study for tests, and how much you miss him even while you’re in class, just like you know how carefully he concentrates when he ices buns for the bakery down the street, his dream of being the head chef slowly manifesting as the months pass by.
“I’m sorry,” you whisper, closing your eyes. He kisses your head softly. “I know that it’s been a long time.”
“It’s okay. What I’m glad about is being here with you right now.” Junmyeon says. He spins you around, laughing as you giggle at his unexpected action. He licks his lips, like he always does when he’s nervous, and leans in, pressing his mouth to yours. The kiss is slow and sweet, and you nibble gently on his lower lip. He brushes his nose against yours in a fleeting Eskimo kiss before he pulls away, claiming the readily cooking pasta as an excuse when you whine at the loss.
The pasta is ready to eat, and you spoon the steaming ravioli into two bowls, passing one to Junmyeon as he grabs the cutlery.
“Do you want me to set the table, or do you want to watch something?” he asks, looking at you.
“Would you mind eating on the couch today?” you respond, suddenly feeling shy. Which is odd, because you’re normally the teasing one in the relationship. Maybe it’s because it’s been such a long time since the two of you have had a real date night at home.
Junmyeon smiles, easily saying yes and sitting down in front of the tv, putting his bowl on the coffee table. You walk over to the sofa, and sit next to him, gently nudging his ankle with your socked foot so he would scoot over. Instead of complying, he pulls you down to sit practically on top of him. You smack him on the arm as he laughs.
“The pasta’s going to get cold if you fool around,” you say, pouting at him. Junmyeon’s ears tint pink, and he loosens his hold on your wrist, letting you scoot over to where you can comfortably sit and eat next to him. Junmyeon reaches over the back of the sofa to grab the remote, arms flexing. You rested your hand on his bicep and he grinned back at you as he turned on the tv.
“What do you want to watch?” you ask him, and he rolls his eyes.
“C’mon, you already know the answer to that!” Junmyeon replies, scrolling quickly through the Netflix titles until the right one catches his eye… Mamma Mia 2: Here We Go Again. Junmyeon loves musicals, and it is his dream to be in one someday. He pretends that he isn’t a softie, but he cries at all the sad scenes at musical movies. The worst one for him is the part in Frozen where Anna freezes and Elsa cries while holding her. Junmyeon always needs tissues next to him when a Disney movie’s picked for movie night.
You settle down to eat as it starts playing, Junmyeon’s thigh pressed against yours as he looks intently at the screen through his glasses, lips pursed in between bites of ravioli. He jumps slightly when he feels the press of pasta to his lips from your spoon instead of his, as he looks from the ravioli in his mouth to your face, which is posed in an angelic smile. He gives in and lets you feed him, frowning occasionally when you tease him by pulling the spoon away at the last minute.
His pink tongue swipes out to dart across his lips as the movie progresses and the two of you slowly run out of pasta. You hold up the last ravioli to his mouth, and he closes his teeth around it while keeping his eyes on the tv, but your hand fluttering to his neck distracts him from the wedding scene pretty quickly. You kiss him firmly, tasting the pasta on his lips. You can feel Junmyeon smiling against your mouth, and his arms wrap around you as you swing one leg over his.
“Do you want to finish the movie first, sweetheart?” he asks cheekily. You know he sees your subtle eye roll, and he kisses your hand. You’ve already given in mentally, and so you nod, sinking back into the couch in disappointment. He tuts, pulling you into him with a soft groan. Your hands flutter against his chest, and he leans against the arm of the couch so you’re almost laying down. Your hair brushes his nose as you settle into him, and he almost sneezes. Junmyeon feels warmer than a heater, and you can feel your eyes slowly closing as the movie continues.
You can feel the deep vibration of his voice as he sings along loudly with the Mamma Mia cast on the tv. It’s soothing though, and the rumbles are reminiscent of a massage chair, which is a stupid comparison but nonetheless accurate. His voice is pleasant and smooth, and you wonder sometimes if he would’ve had a successful career as a singer instead of a baker.
Your hands curl underneath his armpits as you snuggle closer. He wraps a leg around yours, acknowledging your efforts to get closer and effectively trapping you on top of him. You smile sheepishly but don’t apologize for being clingy. After all, you had a right to your boyfriend after not seeing him for such a long time. Even if you saw each other daily, it wasn’t enough.
Your breaths together are slow and measured, your heart almost syncing with the steady beat of Junmyeon’s. You can feel your mind emptying as he continues to interact with the tv, and you drift into a blissful sleep by the time it ends. Junmyeon’s face is turned sideways, glasses askew and mouth slightly open, and your hair is splayed out across your back with your face pressed to his chest.
Even though it was cold outside, you had never felt warmer.