Joji (
jojibear.livejournal.com) wrote in
writetomyheart2015-09-26 11:48 pm
Entry tags:
[Team SONIC] Safely Ensconced
First word from here.
"… not exactly the most threatening thing in the world," are the first words Hakyeon hears when he wakes in an unfamiliar bed, the covers on top of him heavy and a little threadbare, but it's warm and comforting and he can't ask for more right now. "Besides, you forget that cats love me — I'll be able to look after this hybrid, Wonshik, don't worry."
The voice is coming from the hallway he can just about see through the half-open doorway. It's a soft voice, a tad high-pitched but decidedly masculine. He thinks he could listen to it forever.
He's not sure where that thought came from, but he doesn't have a chance to think on it because just then, the door is being pushed open. He catches a glimpse of the man — tall and broad shouldered, the complete opposite to how he had begun to imagine his mysterious saviour — with his gaze fixed on something in his hand, but he decides it would be best to pretend to be asleep.
The man doesn't suspect a thing, it seems, because all Hakyeon feels is a hand on his forehead and hears is a soft mutter of "Thank goodness" before the man moves away — out of the room, judging from the quiet click of a door closing.
The voice is coming from the hallway he can just about see through the half-open doorway. It's a soft voice, a tad high-pitched but decidedly masculine. He thinks he could listen to it forever.
He's not sure where that thought came from, but he doesn't have a chance to think on it because just then, the door is being pushed open. He catches a glimpse of the man — tall and broad shouldered, the complete opposite to how he had begun to imagine his mysterious saviour — with his gaze fixed on something in his hand, but he decides it would be best to pretend to be asleep.
The man doesn't suspect a thing, it seems, because all Hakyeon feels is a hand on his forehead and hears is a soft mutter of "Thank goodness" before the man moves away — out of the room, judging from the quiet click of a door closing.

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