Work Text:
They say love was explosive. Something that ignites a fire in you. Something that makes you passionate. Or more passionate. Something that makes you want to run and chase your dreams.
Im Jisoo used to believe that love was fireworks and happy endings. That it was a sudden stroke of inspiration. Something that comes from poetry, songs and movies.
He didn't know it was quiet mornings, peaceful silence and burnt toasts in the morning. Love came slowly like winter to spring to summer to fall. It crawled like spilled syrup on the breakfast table after fighting over who gets the less burnt toast. It was waking up to the smell of coffee and sunlight slowly traveling towards the still warm space on the bed.
Love that filled the silence in the house with the soft clacking of pebbles on wood and the rhythmic glide of pen on paper.
Love, to Im Jisoo, was "Shua hyung, I'll clean up. You go and put on that movie you wanted to watch."
It was also soft kisses on his forehead and the biting sting of cold steel on his bare arm. The soft tug of the invincible string on his pinky. The gradual pinkening of his cheeks as Cho Seokmin stares at him signing boring documents for his father's company.
Love, Jisoo believes, was the slow blooming of flowers in spring and the warm rain showers in summer.
Love… is Cho Seokmin and his bright smile.