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Ah, bed.

A long day behind him, Bam plops onto the mattress, legs dangling off the side. His back is first to protest against the sudden relaxation, pulling a sigh out of him; he stretches his arms upwards in an effort to quell the discomfort, letting them fall listlessly on either side. He stays that way a while, eyes pointed to the ceiling, seeing everything but the plain white plaster molded above.

Sometimes it was nice to not think. Simply, be. His eyes slide shut, silence dense and comforting. It envelops him in a sense of peace rare and far between, neither heavy nor stifling. He breathes, slowly, deeply, the sound of his exhales the only thing registering in his mind. If he could stay like this for days on end, he would take it - no longer having to worry about everything going on out there, how it affects him and his, what the consequences of whatever occurrence they were sucked into would be...

The sound of knocking at his door jolts him out of his reverie. Three distinct raps in a certain time signature - it could only be one person.

A deep breath, and he calls out. "Come in."

With a swish, the sliding door to his room opens. He doesn't move from his place on his bed, or open his eyes; he's far too relaxed, far too sunken in to the wondrous cradle of softness below him, far too familiar with the confident, languid stride of dress shoes clicking against the flooring nearing his place to even bother. 

The door swishes shut, the electric locks snap into place, and the bed next to him sinks a bit further. He breathes in once more, and the faint scent of sandalwood and jasmine floats to his nose, his favorite color presenting in mind in response -


Amber eyes crack open and slide to the side, the sight greeting him flooding him with warmth. Shuffling off his shoes, undoing his belt and sliding it off, Khun also ends his day on this bed, a tried and true ritual to greet the night.

It may be mundane, but Bam has learned not to take these small moments together for granted. Not anymore. 

He stares, admiring the silvery blue tresses tousled from a day's exertion, his long, pale neck, the tiniest hint of a fading mark peeking above his collared shirt, the oceanic depths of those sapphire eyes that turned to look at him, fluttering his heart with a gentle sea breeze, the wave of lips curved upwards cresting and swelling the love within.

"Tired?" the tenor voice next to Bam asks, amused.

"Mmm." Bam offers him a big sleepy smile, eyes narrowing and glittering in the low light of the bedside lamp.

Khun hums out a throaty chuckle, low and slow. He falls backward, laying next to the brunet. A contented sigh escapes him, and silence settles in its wake.

Bam's gaze never leaves Khun. Those blues, low-lidded, stare at the ceiling - through it. His profile, sharp and silhouetted, ethereal paleness against the shadows beyond. The distracting motion of a tip of a pink tongue darting out to whet pale lips, moisture glistening splendidly from a mouth all too well known, often found against Bam's own in trysts both desperate and sensual. 

Fabric rustles in the quiet. Slender fingers find his own, sliding gently across his palm, threading between. Khun rolls over to his side, meeting his golden gaze, the cold cobalt of those eyes in vibrant contrast to the warm tenderness in play in his expression. Bam can't help but complete the lacing of their fingers together in response, a reassuring squeeze whispering a soundless affirmation of what has long been held dearly between them: unyielding devotion.

Another sigh escapes Bam, an overflow of the blooming intensity of the adoration in his chest.

"I love you."

He knows it, they know it. It doesn't need to be said. But he says it anyway, frequently, in the moments they manage to steal for themselves and them alone. An effort to remind the other that that hasn't changed, will not change, and will be greater with the passage of time. He says it, and the grin it pulls from Khun - his Khun, his Aguero , reserved for him and him only - he wishes to see as much as he can. And his favorite part of it all, how contagious it is. He grins back at his Aguero in return, and his favorite words fall airy from his love's hallowed lips -

"I love you too."

This. This, for as long as he is allowed, for as long as they walk this path together, hand in hand - he hopes these small moments never end, he prays there are more to follow, he longs for a lifetime where he and Aguero need not fear the end, fear separation, fear the tower and circumstance and danger that shadows and hounds their everyday -

He'd do anything for it.

So please , he begs to whatever may be listening as he holds onto his lover's hand for dear life, please, let me keep him by my side.

Bam rolls over, pulls his Aguero into an embrace, and holds him close, swearing never to let him go.