おかえり I'm home
おかえり sweet home
帰る場所 愛をありがとう sweet home
Welcome home, I'm home
With one word my heart is satisfied
Welcome home, sweet home
A place to go home to
Thanks for your love
The day had been long, and I felt exhaustion ebbing through me in great waves.
The alcohol hadn’t helped, and I knew my face was red, my mind buzzing from tiredness and the beers. It was better then the dull throb that had plagued me through the night, having to listen to and play the good, polite boy in front of the group of drunk executives. Irritation and frustration added an extra layer of strain and I wanted to just sleep it all away. Sometimes I wished that it didn’t always have to be me… but then again, I wouldn’t ever wish any of these events on my band mates.
But for now at least it was done, and I could drop the façade as I dragged myself from the elevator to our apartment door. I slipped the key in slowly so as not to make so much noise, and struggled to get my shoes off in the darkness.
I was surprised, shuffling into the hall, to see a flickering blue light reflected on the polished wood. Brow furrowing, I wondered who the hell was up, watching TV at this hour. None of us had much energy after our dance practice, and it had taken me considerable will power and self prepping to get myself up off the couch, make myself presentable and get out the door to go to the ‘dinner’ meeting to be shown off like a prize bull.
The TV was indeed on however, I could see the screen as I came around the corner. The sound was very low, but the whisper of tinny voices was still quite loud in the silence of the apartment.
Something shifted, and a dark blob moved up, and turned, peering over the top of the couch back. Large eyes blinked at me for a moment, before the rest of the face popped up.
Jaejoong’s hair was mussed up, sticking out all over the place in a way that would make him panic at any other time of day. His expression was half asleep, and I had to wonder if he had been napping on the couch, or trying to prevent himself from doing so. Either way though, the soft little smile that adorned his lips more then made up for any so called imperfections in his visage. He was perfect. And the sight of him, hair and all, was enough to wash away the irritation, the frustration, and even some of the crippling exhaustion.
“Okaeri,” he said softly, cutting through the background buzz of the TV and settling straight into my heart.
A smile came to my face unbidden, and I stepped forward to stand over him, his pale face looking up at me. It only took a moment to take in the full joy of that face before I leant down and pressed a kiss to his lips.
I was home.