holding your hand seemed to have worked wonders, even more than the wine did to give him much-needed courage. clearing his throat, he stands on his feet to walk over to your side, leading you to stand as well. standing by the sliding door, he breathes deeply once again as he lays his hands over your shoulders, guiding you to turn around and face the wall opposite the door--one that was on your blind spot when you got in. he lets you read the message painted on it written in gold pigment. he was apprehensive about his handwriting when he was painting it, but it's now how you'll take the message and respond that's his primary concern.
he doesn't know if he'll hear a "you could've just said so bro. why you gotta make it sound all dramatic and like a final goodbye" just like when he first sent you a picture of him to say he wants to hang out. someone seems to not like a lot of drama. or will it be a "you're grounded. go outside bro" just like when he chugged a bottle of your red bull and broke your bedroom door for some reason. someone doesn't wanna share his drinks, and obviously hates a broken house. will he hear again that "i can't believe you bro. i wasn't going to hurt you, but now" just like when he 'insulted' you and said he would just use 2.3% of his strength to take you down. someone clearly hates being underestimated. dang, will it even resemble a "Joss, that's it. you've officially overstayed your welcome. get out" when he asked you about maybe needing oil or anything for some aftercare. well, someone seems to despise talking about IT. it that his all too familiar making-up trick of offering you McDonald's seems to be out of the options--its 100% success rate appears to be useless at this point. calling you 'hyung' like how you always wanted him to also sounds like out of context for this particular matter. even inviting you to start your own version of a can't say 'no' challenge looks like a late realization. yet, he wants to bank on words he had already heard you say before:
you're a bro I kind of fancy.
you're a big happy hormone.
you make me happiest.
i love you so much.
i always want to be with you.
shia bro
that last one may or may not really be one of them, but the point in his head is quite clear. he doesn't mind if he has to buy you racks of red bull and save his last piece of nugget for you every time; be your handyman and fix all the broken doors and pipes in the house; and pour 100% and more of him to make you the happiest you can possibly be. he doesn't mind and he doesn't care because deep down your tough, walled-up, sometimes even mean facade is this amazing, loveable, loyal, sweet, and caring person that he has gotten to see--and love--in the last six months you've known each other.
right before you finish reading and turn back around to face him, he kneels down on one knee, this time holding a ring to ask for your hand in marriage and not to meet you at eye level when you're seated; or get you up his shoulders to start a room painting session; or get you off of them after a job well done. he thought those moments would be nothing short of a good rehearsal for this moment, but oh boy, he was wrong. the feelings are not at all very much comparable, with his trembling legs, weaker knees, tumultuous voices in his head, and almost liquidy innards flowing violently inside his abdominal cavity. finally, after fighting all the anxiety, he opens his mouth with the best hopes the right words he practiced a million times would come out perfectly.
Moon Jong Up, you make me happy as it is. but will you marry me and make me the happiest man in the universe forever?

 

Each of your vague little non answers does nothing to lessen his worry. Brows creasing and appetite long forgotten as you rise from your chair, mind busy working through the moments leading up to this one to try and pinpoint when exactly you became so distressed and what he could do to fix it. Seeing you so on edge and anxious unsettling him in a way that made him want to wrap you up in a cocoon and hide you away from the world. Standing up at your prompting, his body mindlessly following your silent instructions as his brain works itself into near trepidation. Blinking out of his daze as he stares at the wall, pretty letters curling neatly, reminding him of the yellow sticky note from this morning. Eyes squinting reflexively as he reads the words before him once, then twice-- thrice for good measure. His lips parting in a soundless exclamation and his heart thundering loudly in his ears as he spins around on his feet to look at you, skyward gaze soon dropping when he doesn’t catch sight of your bashfully smiling face like he expects to. He might gape at you for a moment or two, his racing mind having gone eerily blank at this sudden revelation. Then there’s a flurry of movement as he closes the meager distance between you, arms closing around you securely as his chest tightens and his eyes well up with charged emotion. Once his brain resumes normal functions and thought patterns, the first words out of his mouth are:
This isn’t how I thought it would go.
The words tremulous and familiar- reminiscent of their first time together- as he sniffs quietly, carefully wiping at the few tears that managed to escape; marvelling at how you always seem to surprise him. He lets out a little chuckle as he pulls away to peer down at you; gaze misty and affectionate and incredibly fond. All of your nervousness and apprehension, the insistence for him not to help you finish painting and just wait for your call. He feels warm, he feels happy, besotted.
Of course I will marry you.
He says so softly into the air between you, only for you to hear, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Hands reaching out to cradle your face, his touch featherlight as he leans down to press a kiss to your lips. The touch fleeting but the warmth that it leaves behind lasting. The endearment level he’d felt from your thoughtfulness earlier easily quadrupling as he pulls you in for another embrace, seemingly not knowing what to do with himself and all of the emotions that he’s feeling. Affection building up in his chest and his only outlet being to cling on to you in true baby koala fashion, another barely heard sniffle further muffled into your hair.