missing pieces

from enhypen weverse — jake & sunghoon dazed korea behind photo sketch

sunghoon loves jake in ways he cannot begin to explain. well, it’s not just love. it’s something deeper, something unshakable, something that clings to the marrow of his bones. if love were a language, then sunghoon speaks it fluently — in the way he watches jake, in the way his eyes soften whenever jake enters the room, in the way his breath catches for half a second before he looks away, and in the way he dreams of him.

because jake, jake is everything.

in his dreams, sunghoon has held him close eight times. he remembers each one vividly. the warmth of jake’s body, the steady rise and fall of his breath, the scent of his shirt lingering on sunghoon’s skin long after the embrace ends. he buries his face in jake’s shoulder every time, afraid that if he lets go, the dream will end too soon.

jake pulls back just enough to look into his eyes. “you know i love you, right?” he says softly, like he’s telling a secret.

sunghoon nods. he doesn’t trust himself to speak, but he smiles, because jake is here, jake is real — at least for now.

they have kissed seven times. not just simple, fleeting kisses, but ones that steal the air from sunghoon’s lungs. slow, deep, like promises carved into the space between them. each time, jake cups his face so gently, thumbs brushing over his cheekbones as if memorizing every inch of him.

“for as long as i breathe,” jake whispers against his lips.

sunghoon exhales shakily, pressing their foreheads together. “until the end of time,” he echoes, but the words ache.

six times, they have danced. the first was tentative, their hands awkwardly finding their place. the second was more confident. by the third, jake was laughing, twirling sunghoon under the moonlight like they were the only two people in the world.

the most recent time, jake rested his head against sunghoon’s chest as they swayed to a song that sunghoon once sang for someone who had left. “who was it for?” jake murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

sunghoon hesitated, then tightened his hold on him. “it doesn’t matter anymore.”

jake hummed, pressing closer. “sing it for me this time?”

sunghoon did.

five times, jake has told him i love you. not in passing, not out of obligation, but like he truly means it. once in a quiet kitchen, once beneath flickering city lights, once with a sleepy mumble against his shoulder. each time, sunghoon’s heart clenches so tightly it hurts.

four times, he has taken jake to places where his heartbreak still lingers. the park bench where he sat alone in the rain. the café where he waited for someone who never showed up. the rooftop where he had stared at the sky, wondering why love always seemed to slip through his fingers.

“i’ve been here before,” jake says one night, kicking at the gravel beneath his feet.

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sunghoon’s breath catches. “you have?”

jake turns to him, eyes soft. “yeah. i think i was looking for you.”

sunghoon’s chest tightens painfully.

thrice, he has confessed his fears. that love never stays. that no matter how hard he tries, he is always left behind. that one day, even jake will go.

“i’m scared of being left behind,” sunghoon admitted, almost in a whisper. jake had reached out, brushing his hand over sunghoon’s.

“you won’t be,” he’d said, but sunghoon couldn’t quite bring himself to believe it.

twice, jake has held him close, tucking stray strands of hair behind his ear, whispering reassurance like a chant. “i love you, i love you, i love you,” over and over again, as if trying to carve the words into sunghoon’s soul.

sunghoon wants to believe him. he wants to live in this dream forever, where jake is his and the world isn’t cruel. where love doesn’t slip through his fingers like sand, where he doesn’t have to wake up to an empty bed and an even emptier heart.

and for once, the universe is kind.

when he wakes up, the bed is warm. not just from the lingering heat of sleep, but from the steady weight of an arm draped over his waist, grounding him in place. the scent of jake’s shampoo lingers on the pillow beside him, familiar and real, and the soft sound of breathing fills the quiet morning air. it takes a second for sunghoon to register it fully — to let the reality of it sink in. the warmth, the weight, the presence.

jake is here.

sunghoon blinks, his mind still clouded with sleep, and turns over carefully, afraid that if he moves too fast, the illusion will shatter. but jake is there — his face inches away, eyes still heavy with sleep, lips slightly parted as he exhales softly. his hair is a mess, sticking up in odd directions, but sunghoon thinks he’s never seen anything more beautiful.

slowly, almost without thinking, sunghoon reaches out, fingertips tracing lightly over jake’s cheek. the touch must stir him, because jake lets out a small, content sigh and shifts closer, his arm tightening around sunghoon’s waist.

“you’re staring,” jake mumbles, voice thick with sleep. his eyes remain closed, but there’s a ghost of a smile playing at his lips.

sunghoon swallows, his throat tight. “i thought you were a dream.”

at that, jake’s brows furrow slightly, and then his eyes flutter open, dark and soft and filled with something sunghoon can’t quite name. “then i guess you’re stuck with me, even when you’re awake.”

sunghoon exhales, something in his chest loosening as jake shifts even closer, pressing their foreheads together. their breaths mingle in the small space between them, warm and steady, and sunghoon lets his eyes slip shut, allowing himself to sink into the moment. jake is real. jake is here.

and for the first time in a long time, sunghoon doesn’t want to go back to sleep. because reality, with jake in it, is better than any dream.