Mingyu froze.

Not from lack of want or uncertainty, but from shock alone that Fox would be asking him that. It wasn't not even that surprising. They'd been together for some time now, have each been so radiantly happy that how well they fit together was impossible to ignore. It was a natural development of things, and yet it caught Mingyu off guard all the same.

Because he'd been swallowing down the truth of it himself, in denial, thinking surely not. Surely love wouldn't find him like this, so effortlessly, so picture perfect, reminding him of nothing so much as the aching tenderness his parents regarded each other with while they still lived.

By now he'd concluded it couldn't be anything less. Fox was the love of his life. But how could he say that to someone who was skittish about staying over for more than a few days in a row?

Now Fox was asking.

That meant he could finally say it.

"Huli," he whispered roughly, lifting his free hand to cup Fox's face, a faint tremor in his fingers as he traced them over Fox's cheek.

"I love you. I'm in love with you."