The December sun is so weak.

It doesn't shine through windows with as much force as it used to; it was tired and so were they, pressed up against one another under the warmth of a duvet and in the comfort of one another's embrace. Six in the morning, a bluish haze illuminating everything and the very faint smell of rain outside, the petrichor.

Then there was a shift, a tiny little groan from underneath the covers. A head peeked over and into the room, tired eyes looking for a certain little puppy.

And she was safely snoring, next to the foot of the bed.

Yoongi's heart swelled and he sat up, a little overwhelmed. He must've done something beyond spectacular to deserve this.

'This' being perhaps the ability to love or being loved - whether that existed in the man who lay asleep next to him or in the cold keys of his piano, the brown one in the corner of his memories, or the small poodle sighing and tossing beside the bed.

He must've saved the world to deserve this.

To him, the lessons were worth more than diamond. That offer, in the studio, coming to around three years ago now, it held more meaning than he could imagine. The meaning of awkward hands that kept searching for the other, the eyes that stared far too long, the quick kisses whenever they could get them, counting the freckles on each other's skin.

"Jungkook. Wake up. Go make coffee."

"Eh?"

"Go make coffee."

Jungkook mumbled something incoherent under his breath, pushing the covers off his body and pulling a pair of pants on. "I thought you said you weren't going to drink coffee anymore?"

"And meant it? Must've been a joke," he said, turning over and pulling the covers over his eyes.

"All the sacrifices I make in the name of love," Jungkook muttered, dragging himself into the kitchen.

-

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