Work Text:
Sometimes, Baekhyun would wake up on Sunday morning without Jongdae beside him.
That first morning, Baekhyun had never been more scared. Although Jongdae had promised he would never let such a thing happen, nothing frightened Baekhyun more than the thought of being left behind.
He had found Jongdae sitting at his desk with a pen and a notebook.
"I couldn't help looking at you while you slept," Jongdae had said, "as if real life resembles a dream more than my own. I need to jot those feelings down as soon as they come."
It was that first morning that makes Baekhyun feel like he has probably never woken up. Not yet, not even now. Because happiness always floods his heart, and Jongdae's poems give a meaning to his life.
You are my sun.
How long has it been since this beautiful dream began? Baekhyun always wakes up on weekends wondering if this will be the end. Always, the answer will be no. Baekhyun will always find Jongdae.
This morning is warmer than usual.
Baekhyun rubs the sleep off his eyes and untangles himself from the soft blankets. He goes into the living room to find Jongdae; not a trace. Maybe Jongdae is cooking something for him to eat? The kitchen is also empty. The question resurfaces in Baekhyun's crumbling mind.
Jongdae. Where is Jongdae?
Baekhyun searches every corner of the apartment until a wind blows the curtain of the glass door, bringing to his sense of smell the powdery mildew. It's only for a split second, a small slice that catches his eyes, but Baekhyun immediately recognizes the person sitting in the garden.
His Jongdae.
"Good morning."
Jongdae's voice sounds like it contains sunlight, and Baekhyun notices that winter is no longer there. No more warm feeling of thick wool socks; Baekhyun only realizes he's stepped on the dewy grass with bare feet at the same time he realizes he’s made his way to Jongdae. And his lover, just like that first morning, has a pen and a notebook with him.
“Good morning,” Baekhyun echoes, “once again, your inspiration came to you before me.”
Jongdae laughs, loud and warm, almost like what flows to Baekhyun's heart, keeping it beating; he shakes his head in amusement.
"No, Baekhyun... You're always my first. You're my inspiration."
Spring has indeed arrived.
Falling leaves and green sprouts remind Jongdae of beginnings. Even when their first morning wasn’t during spring, even when this apartment wasn’t theirs yet, Jongdae’s first s would always be Baekhyun.
"I'm writing a song for us."
Jongdae's promises are always so sincere,
That perhaps Baekhyun has always waited to live the dream on Sunday mornings.