Yewook | PG | 862 words | fluffy fluff | au: deaf!wook
It's been a year since Jongwoon first played his guitar for Ryeowook. A lot has changed and Jongwoon thinks it's time to break out his guitar once more.
a/n: For my dear seeeno on her birthday! :)
Also, this is the song I listened to while writing it, and what I imagined Jongwoon playing for Ryeowook. :)
occurs after the events that take place in Baby Steps; sequel to It Goes Like This
It was cold that night. It had snowed earlier that day, coating the fairly large yard in a thick layer of powdery white and effectively stranding them at home for the rest of the evening, not that they minded.
Jongwoon knew that, even though he would never say it, Ryeowook loved quiet nights at home. Just the two of them, curled up on the couch in front of the fire, watching a movie or reading or simply lying there, giving each other soft kisses. He had a little something different planned for this evening, though.
It had been nearly six months since Ryeowook’s operation and, in that six months, he hadn’t played the guitar for his boyfriend once. Ryeowook had been so busy that he hadn’t thought about asking, which Jongwoon was pleased about. It saved him from having to come up with reasons why he wouldn’t.
Jongwoon had been waiting for a night just like this and, after they ate warm soup for dinner, he pulled Ryeowook into the living room, then raised a finger before dashing off upstairs.
Ryeowook waited patiently in the middle of the room, tugging on the sleeves of his slightly-too-big sweater before wrapping his arms around himself as he waited. A moment later, Jongwoon appeared in the doorway with his guitar in his hands. The younger man blinked in surprise, then all of a sudden he remembered.
It had been almost exactly a year since he’d first heard Jongwoon play. That night, after dinner, Jongwoon had drug him to the living room and played him a song that he’d written. It was more beautiful than he could have ever explained and he’d pestered Jongwoon to play for him every chance he could, but, he realized, he hadn’t since his operation. Suddenly he desperately wanted to hear it.
He immediately plopped down on the floor in front of the couch, just as he always did when Jongwoon played, and patted the cushions excitedly. Jongwoon laughed, carefully taking his seat and breathing deeply. Then he started to play.
Ryeowook’s eyes immediately flew to his hands, and, even though he was expecting them, the sounds coming from the instrument in front of him caught him by surprise. He immediately recognized this sequence and the way Jongwoon’s fingers moved; it was his song, the one Jongwoon had written for him.
He’d thought, the first time he watched Jongwoon play, that no sort of audible noise could be more beautiful than watching those fingers. But this time, instead of just seeing the notes, he could hear them as well, and it was so much better than anything he could have possibly imagined.
It had a soft melody with swells that resonated in his very being. He let his eyes flutter shut for a second, letting the sound of it wash over him, but he almost immediately opened them again. He liked watching Jongwoon play. It was mesmerizing.
When the song finally faded to a finish, the notes seemed to hang in the air and reverberate around him, breathing life into the quiet of the room. For a long time, they sat in silence. Ryeowook reached out slowly, running his fingers over the smooth wood of the guitar and then over Jongwoon’s fingers. He looked up at Jongwoon to see the older man looking down at him quizzically.
“How was it?” he asked softly.
Ryeowook’s eyes sparkled at the question and he racked his brain for the language he wanted.
“G-g-good!” he sputtered out, but he almost immediately began to look frustrated. It was so much more than good, so many words that he wanted to say but didn’t quite know how to form on his lips, and his inability to communicate that frustrated him so he switched over to the language he knew. Praises flew from his fingertips before he noticed that Jongwoon wasn’t watching them. Jongwoon was starting at his face, a fond smile decorating his lips. He blinked.
“W-wh-a-at?” he asked slowly, still mildly embarrassed at his choppy and imperfect speech. They’d been working for months, but learning how to talk was much harder than learning how to hear.
Jongwoon just shook his head slightly, still smiling. He propped his guitar up against the side of the couch, letting his fingers form the words along with his lips. “Your voice is more magical than any guitar piece I could ever play.”
Ryeowook blushed, climbing onto the couch and straddling Jongwoon’s hips as he slowly wrapped his arms around his boyfriend’s neck. He leaned down, letting their lips move together slowly. Jongwoon’s hands slipped under his sweater, resting on the small of his back, gently rubbing circles on soft flesh with the tips of his fingers. Ryeowook let his eyes slip shut and, in that moment, it was just like it had been before; no sights, no sounds, only Jongwoon and his soft touch and the warmth of his body and the promise of a love that would never die.
When they pulled apart, Ryeowook smiled softly. I love you.
Jongwoon smiled back. I love you too.
There were some things that never needed to be spoken to be understood.