Work Text:
you can have all i've made
and all i've ever known
you can have both my lungs
if you ask me so ...
Minho’s legs shook as he walked up the apartment steps, and his vision fuzzed, fading in and out when he blinked frantically. He couldn’t feel his fingers when he grasped the doorknob, stepping into the one place that was supposed to be the safest for him. Something in his chest popped, clicking into place when he stepped through the door, but it didn’t feel good. It felt chipped, unfinished, hurried. Like he shouldn't ... quite ... be there yet.
Premature.
Nothing changed about the amount of shit he felt, kicking off his shoes and letting his bag thunk to the floor, making a small but loveable mess in the entryway. He knew Chan wouldn’t even think about scolding him; it was almost always the other way around. Rubbing his eyes, Minho padded numbly farther into the apartment, through the kitchen and the living room. He wiped his hands on his work pants, the motion making him feel worse. The floor was cold, not that he could feel it. His ears were still filled with cotton from the silence of his drive home, and as he walked through his home, they slowly emptied, ringing painfully.
A good pain, though.
A deserved pain.
It had been a fairly acceptable day at work that day, Minho really had no reason to panic. He’d survived just fine throughout his classes, remembered to have more than caffeine for lunch as he frantically made copies of lesson plans and coloring pages for some of his younger students, filling the copy room with heat and the scent of heavy, dark ink. He had smiled and laughed with a few of his fellow teachers, made polite conversation, and even went out of his way to ask about their kids, their holidays, and their students.
He was good; he made it good.
Minho’s brother, Seungmin, who taught across the hall from Minho, had been in a lovely mood, singing with his students as he walked them to and from their classes, and shining Minho a brilliant smile when he passed. Seungmin’s boyfriend, Jeongin, who taught in the music department in the other building, had swung by during lunch to eat with Seungmin in Minho’s classroom, which … normally, Minho didn’t like. He liked his space during his lunch break. However, something about the way the two younger men were giggling like kids, feeling comfortable and happy, and wanting to share their days with Minho … something about that made Minho sensitive and vulnerable, so he let them.
Chan wasn’t anywhere in sight, no sign of the young work-from-home producer, so Minho kept moving, eyes desperately searching for his mate. Following his nose, he eventually dragged his burning body up the stairs, down the hallway, and into the master bedroom. The door was cracked open, and as Minho blinked away his stinging tears, he heard the telltale clicking of laptop keys before he managed to pick up the alpha's scent. Figured; he'd always been rather shit at picking scents up. His gland enhancer itched horribly, so he stopped wearing it years ago.
Bingo.
Chan was propped up against the wooden headboard, computer in front of him and illuminating his bright eyes and kind, calm face. Between the comfort of the bed, pillows, and blankets that called to him, and the warmth that oozed from his mate, Minho was helpless to his own emotions, falling to pieces where he stood in the doorway. The dim light of the bedroom welcomed him, and he shut the door silently behind him, knees becoming weak once more.
Tears falling from his eyes, he shakily inhaled, feeling it sting his throat, and his legs carried him forward, leaving his mind and soul behind. He couldn’t have cared less about his scent, which Chan had to have felt by then; the way the pheromones buzzed with no direction, no purpose.
Minho was no longer in control of his body, and the closer he got to the bed, the easier it got to breathe, but the more desperate he became.
The moment the omega neared Chan’s comforting body, Chan seemed to be ready for him, for the alpha gently closed his laptop and tossed it to the side before gently opening his arms for his mate. Minho didn’t see the tenderness that shone from the older boy’s eyes.
Something made Minho disregard Chan’s arms completely, however, avoiding the mere hug and instead letting his knees smack into the mattress and then flopping forward, letting himself fall face-first. His chest hit Chan’s knees, and he draped himself over the older man’s lap. Not in a particularly … unfamiliar … position, Minho didn’t quite have it to care about how he looked.
His body was small, weak compared to Chan's, and now it was screaming at him in pain.
Chan hummed, something adoring and understanding coloring his scent at the same time, and he curled his arms and legs around Minho a little, creating a slight cocoon.
And it made sense.
Nothing else made sense to the omega besides the strong, warm, familiar body underneath him. His hands shakily clung to Chan’s left arm, and he couldn’t close his eyes and disappear into his head fast enough. Nothing mattered besides the way his exhausted frame seemed to dissolve into dust, flopped across his boyfriend’s lap. He whined pathetically.
Like clockwork, his bottom began to tingle immediately, underneath his too-tight work jeans. His head was far too fuzzy to do anything about it, though, so he merely whimpered and buried his face in Chan’s forearm, holding it close with both hands. At that point, he was so far inside himself, he wouldn’t mind in the slightest if Chan wanted to rip all his clothes off and edge him until he was screaming, which normally was a treatment saved for severe punishments between them. It didn’t matter anymore. As long as he was allowed to be near Chan, holding onto the older, letting someone … deal with him and his broken body; his tired, heavy mind, he'd make it. He could handle the rest.
Chan’s other hand made its way to the omega’s shoulders and upper back, softly kneading the tense muscles that lay underneath the sore skin. Minho groaned weakly, his body burning and freezing at the same time, Chan’s hand melting into him and squeezing around his heart, just in time with the shaky beat to which it pulsed. It felt like he was gently being pried open, unfolded from all his tight wrinkles, before finally allowed to relax and flatten out from being wound up in a ball all day.
Through the haze, he heard the alpha whispering, almost to himself, as his hand scored down Minho’s body, reaching his thighs and his legs.
“I know you didn’t mean to climb up here with your shoes still on …”
And as his large, deft hands pulled Minho’s work sneakers off, the omega felt his heart slowly pulling him down into the mattress, diving into the sheets and letting Chan do whatever he wanted to whatever shell or husk was left of his body after that.
“… Let hyungie help you out, little one …”
Chan’s hands were gentle, even if they were unpredictable, large, and at times intimidating. The solid feeling of the alpha’s fingers, rubbing along his waist, pressing into the twin dimples right above his ass … made Minho keen hoarsely in the back of his throat. Selfishly, he prayed that the embarrassingly weak sound would be muffled or swallowed by the blankets beneath his head.
“Ohh, I know, Min … you’re so ready for me, huh? Ready for me to do whatever I want …”
Chan’s whispered words made the tears come faster, cascading down Minho’s cheeks now, pressed and squished into the mattress, and the younger boy couldn’t help the way he pitched his hips up into the alpha’s hand.
Something terrifically sweet colored Chan’s scent then, and the air in the bedroom thickened, becoming precious, small, and muted. Nearly closing in on them, just the way Minho liked it. He felt something tight in his belly unwind. He blinked for the last time, closing his eyes and burying his face in Chan’s sleeve.
Without a word, Chan’s fingers dipped into the waistband of Minho’s work jeans, tugging them down slowly, the fabric scratching pleasantly along his skin, making lightning bolts shoot through the bones beneath it.
Relief flooding his already exhausted body in response, Minho wiggled his hips to help with the removal of his pants. He felt himself sigh when Chan took his right hand gently from the omega’s grasp, using both his hands to slide the rough, worn item down and off Minho’s feet, leaving him in only his socks, underwear, and dress shirt. Warmth fizzed across the planes of his legs, up his thighs to his lower back, and he felt the gooseflesh scurry up and down his body.
He hoped Chan was watching the small bumps that covered his skin like stars, too.
He hoped it looked pretty.
Minho could have seen the way Chan’s hands coaxed his thighs apart, leaving him spread and relaxed, coming a mile away. He always did like it when Minho was … open … for him. The alpha’s hands were warm on the younger boy’s inner knees and thighs, smoothing up closer and closer to the damp, unbecoming warmth that lay between his ass cheeks.
Without Chan’s arm to hold onto, Minho shakily grabbed the nearest pillow, pulling it close and smashing his face into the cool softness. He knew his cheeks and ears were red, and if Chan had made him look at himself in the mirror, he would have been met with red, fuzzy, and teary eyes that pleaded and begged mercilessly. Shaking his head at that thought, Minho once again pressed his bottom up into the alpha’s hands. Need filled his veins like lava, making the helplessness rise within his soul, coloring his scent with desperation.
Both of the alpha’s hands were on his ass now, one on each cheek, and through the thin, warm fabric of his boxers, he could feel the heat with which Chan was gently, slowly squeezing. His long fingers dipped and pressed into Minho’s flesh, softly twisting and pulling as he pleased. It was gentle, but oh, it ached. The burn of letting someone play with him like that … settled heavily between Minho’s eyes, crossing his heart on its way. The dig of the alpha's fingers, tugging Minho into his rightful shape ... the omega felt a twinge in his lower stomach in response, making his heartbeat pick up slightly.
Another keen ripped from Minho’s mouth, even as he pressed his face harder into the pillow. He didn’t miss, through the deep fog in his head, the way Chan sighed so lovingly in response, his hands continuing their massage. The alpha’s words were breathed across his shivering skin, tattooing him as they scrolled by.
“So ready for me … I know …”
As he spoke, Chan’s hands began to pull tenderly at Minho’s boxers, taking them down the way he always did, slowly … giving the omega plenty of time to change his mind or color.
Now, lying across his mate’s lap in only his socks and shirt, clutching a pillow to his face, Minho knew he looked a mess. His hair stuck to his neck, and his legs were nearly shaking, spread and pliant. He might have even been arching up a little, like a bitch in heat, if he wanted to think hard enough about it.
He didn’t.
And he didn’t even want to think about how wet he had to have been by then, relaxed and needy under Chan’s eyes. He whined quietly to himself, squirming weakly when Chan’s hands returned to his now very much naked bottom. With a shudder of horror, the omega realized he was now dripping onto his mate’s lap. Literal pools, having streamed down his pussy and without his thighs to land on, seeped into the alpha’s black jeans.
Minho twitched, squirming in embarrassment, and his tender, red, and swollen clit caught on the seam of Chan’s jeans, making him really arch up then and moan, gracelessly, the sound ripping from his teary and snotty face, coloring the air of the bedroom like a howl. He immediately, without thinking at all, chased the feeling again, bucking against Chan's lap, whining needily.
The movement and sound earned him one single, solid spank, directly across the sensitive curve of his ass.
Smack!
And Chan’s voice filled his thrumming ears, steadying his racing heart.
“Now, now, none of that … you let hyung handle that … let me take care of you …”
Minho couldn't help but sob in relief at the soft words. His back and shoulders sank, and he fell back into the bed, his arms curling around the smushed pillow and cradling his face with it.
Real, ruthless exhaustion began to set in then, gluing Minho’s eyes closed, and pulling his lips out of their pout and into a perfect, sleepy scrunch against the pillow. His shoulders no longer shook with hiccupping sobs. His chest rose and fell with deep, sleepy breaths, and a familiar warmth filled his tummy.
“That’s it, my baby … hyung’s got you …”
There was a soft hand at the back of his head then, running strong fingers through his hair and scratching lovingly at his scalp. He sighed before slipping, finally sinking into the void.
Nestled across his mate’s lap, Minho thunked to the bottom of the ocean.
He wasn’t quite sure when they had started, but Chan’s hand began to quietly tap down on his bottom, nearly absentmindedly, almost as if the alpha was using Minho as a fidget toy. Tap, tap ... pat, pat ... it was addicting; the ticking of a faceless clock.
That thought, the thought of being a little plaything for his alpha’s hands, the thought of being taken care of in such a lewd way … made the omega slick up even more, and he reveled in how Chan giggled quietly, under his breath.
Time did not exactly exist at the bottom of the ocean, but Chan had to have been gently patting Minho’s bottom for over thirty minutes. Fuzzy as he was, Minho recognized the slow, gentle warmth coming up off of his ass, and the gentleness of his mate’s hands.
“You’re doing so well, little one …”
Pat … pat … pat …
Chan’s hand covered so much space of Minho’s ass … fingers nearly slipping between his cheeks, closer and closer, teasing with a knowing hesitance. The omega felt more slick ooze out of him the longer they lay together, subject to the lullaby that was Chan’s hands tapping down on Minho’s flesh.
“I know, you’re so ready, so needy for my fingers … almost, little one … almost, I promise …”
Chan’s voice, floating through the miles of ocean that filled Minho’s head, felt like a comforting blanket covering his broken, bloodied body. Soaking up all of the hurt, the exhaustion, and the hatred … squeezing just right, filling all of his cracks and holes, making him complete once more.
Pat … pat … pat …
...
Pat … pat … pat …
Slowly, predictably, the gentleness of Chan’s hands faded, and the pats became heavier, thudding softly onto Minho’s now red and warm bottom. The omega welcomed the crescendo, sinking further into the feeling, the ripple of his flesh as the spanks grew in force and number. The lullaby continued, flowing through both of their bodies, their scents mingling in the bedroom air, fusing together to become one. The hits didn't hurt, no, they ... they thumped into Minho's bottom with a resolution and a pressure that wrapped him in warmth, tucked in all his wayward pieces, and squeezed just right, glueing him back in place.
Sleep was pulling at the omega’s bones, now, hard. He whined pitifully, burying closer to the pillow in his shaking hands, feeling his throat tightening with need once more. After spending the entire day, every waking minute, praying for and waiting for the blissful cloud of sleep … he didn’t want it anymore, not like this, not unfinished. He wanted Chan’s arms to snugly tie him down, and he wanted … so much. But not sleep. Not yet. Please, not yet. Please, just a little longer.
Chan’s scent dipped in response to the sound, likely unconscious, and Minho loved it. He wanted desperately to open his mouth and scream all of the thoughts plaguing his tired, broken mind, but nothing worked. All he had was his body and his scent glands.
He had used his body, he realized, the moment he flopped across Chan’s lap, silently asking, pleading for attention. Offering his body if his mate needed something to do, something to … please. Something to twist and prod and spank and … and watch. With each squirm, each arch, and ever wave of aroused pheromones pouring from his red, flushed pussy, he'd all but begged Chan for help.
And now he used his scent, crying softly as he poured all of his feelings into their bond, flooding it with every minute, every ounce of his self-hatred, his horrible nervousness, and his overwhelming need to be close to Chan, to be held tight.
To be held down.
To be ever so lovingly settled.
Now, Minho was no stranger to being settled. It was a firm part of his and Chan’s relationship early on, even before the omega had taken the time to slowly and with excruciating detail explain how helpful it was for him, mentally as well as physically. Chan was a natural, helping him through some of the worst drops he’d ever experienced, and soon, it was a fluid piece of their lives. A routine part of them, despite how scared he'd been to think about it.
For he knew how to settle himself; he had been taught early on in school and at home. A quick shake of his head or a few taps on his scent gland would often be enough, but at times he needed to be alone, one hand grasping his wrist and pressing hard. He could handle that, no problem. (Only once, before Chan had bitten him, did he have to kneel all by himself, alone in a cold bathroom, his head pressed to the tiles, tears streaming down his face as his pheromones painfully evened out.)
As skilled as he was, however … nothing compared to a settling from Chan’s hands.
Minho’s body was on fire when he felt Chan’s hand that was in his hair take over, gently patting his bottom, and the alpha’s right hand slid down to rest on his upper thigh, thumb rubbing soothingly on the red, flushed skin there. Minho’s heart lurched in anticipation, wondering what the older man was considering. Knowing he'd be taken care of regardless of the outcome. He waded through the fog, inhaling deeply to do his best at calming his weak scent.
The way Chan’s fingers crept closer to his aching pussy made Minho want to scream, but all he could do was cry harder, shoulders shaking now with the effort it took to stay down. Luckily, his mate’s voice washed over him again, rescuing him from his body.
“It’s alright, I’m right here … you’re okay … deep breaths, good boy, you’re okay …”
Minho melted across Chan’s lap for the last time, becoming a pool of relaxed tears, slick, and desperation. Slowly and steadily, Chan’s heart was breaking in return; the omega could feel it through the rich, sad coffee scent that filled the bedroom. With a shaking sigh, Minho wished Chan’s body could wrap around him and swallow him whole, let him live in the deep wells of his soul. He yearned to live inside the alpha, to feel the man's heartbeat as his own. At times, it felt like the only way he could submit was through total and complete ownership.
Without preamble, or perhaps with nothing but preamble, Chan’s hand smoothly slipped between Minho’s thighs, cupping his damp, warm, tired pussy and tapping his fingers down on the omega’s lips. The soft flesh trembled and shook under his strong, gentle fingers, and a steady stream of slick coated the surrounding area soon. Minho's mouth fell open in a soundless groan, and he clenched his fists harder in the fabric of the pillowcase, his cunt clenching and trembling under Chan's hand. The final piece of the puzzle, he let go.
Pat … pat … pat …
Minho felt his own voice humming through his chest, his head buzzing at the touch of his mate. His shoulders sank further, his soul seeping lower. The weight of Chan’s hand against his pussy acted like a control switch for the rest of his body, turning him inside out and upside-down. His eyes rolled into the back of his head, his scent tiredly shot up into the ceiling, circling it like rings of smoke.
“I’ve got you, sweetheart …”
The gentle, warm fingers between his legs began to slide up and down, now … rather than tapping down on the folds, now playing with them, moving them slowly side to side, massaging the surrounding skin. The addicting touch soothed and evened out the omega's scent, giving it notes of calm, milky slumber. Chan was humming again, through the fog of Minho’s mind, and the warmth of his breath was softly nestling between the omega’s shoulder blades where it belonged.
Being played with this way … if Minho wasn’t going to go to sleep, then he was going to go crazy.
The night grew heavy, and, under Chan’s hand, Minho floated headfirst into a sleepy, dreamless fog.
Chan’s fingers dipped deeper, spreading Minho’s cunt open, watching the slick shine on his fingers, and a smile covered his face. He couldn't help it.
With his other hand, he reached over Minho’s back, gathering the loose, linen bedspread and gently covering both of their legs, slowly curling closer. He withdrew his hand from Minho’s pussy, wiping it carefully on his already stained jeans. Minho stirred, his breath slow and laden with slumber, and curled closer to the alpha's body.
Chan cocked his head to the side, considering how to transfer the two of them into a more comfortable sleeping position.
---
“What’s got you smiling so cutely?” Chan closed the fridge door and smirked at Minho.
The omega was leaning against the sink, his hands nearly red from the hot dish water. He sighed, shaking his head, and whispered, almost to himself,
“Just … actually, just thinking about jumping on a dildo tonight.”
Chan swallowed hard but nodded, taking it in stride. The more normal he was about these kinds of things, the easier they happened. It always was ... nice ... when Minho was blunt about things.
“Oh, is that part of your nightly routine? I know autistic people have a thing for routines …” He turned away, keeping his scent and his shoulders relaxed.
When they’d gotten married and finally moved in together, Minho had begun to slowly relax, and it was the best thing that Chan had ever witnessed. It was slow to happen, yes, but eventually, all of the omega’s rituals and routines met Chan’s loving and eager eyes, and it all clicked into place.
He felt the omega’s scent shift, and Minho’s back stiffened. He turned to look at Chan with wide, honest eyes.
“Well … y-yes, but … it’s not like that … you don’t have to … you don’t …”
Without making Minho’s panic any worse, Chan did his best to lovingly smile over his shoulder. His hands shook around his glass of water, though.
“Aish, you don’t think I could keep up with your sexual demands? I did while we were courting, you know …”
Minho’s blush was nothing short of adorable, and he quickly turned off the faucet, his soapy hands still hanging over the edge of the sink. He blinked at Chan and shook his head.
“N-no, it’s not … it’s not that, I promise … I just didn’t want you to think that you, that you had to keep up. I’m not, like, gonna beg you every night to fuck me, it’s not like that.”
Heart hammering, a pleasant hum filled Chan’s chest, and he turned around, his scent filling their bond with peace and reassurance.
“Okay. Can you … can you tell me what it is like, then?”
It took a long minute, but with some deep breaths and a single tear of simple overwhelm, Minho was able to rinse his hands off and put away his apron, biting the side of his lower lip as he considered. Chan merely continued putting away his bag from work that day, waiting patiently, gaze and scent both practiced and gentle.
Minho grabbed his hands, and they wordlessly put the kitchen to bed, locked the apartment doors, and headed upstairs to the bedroom.
They brushed their teeth. Chan silenced his phone.
They changed into pajamas. Minho poured them each a glass of water for the nightstand.
They turned back the sheets. Chan set up the sound machine.
They closed the curtains and turned off the lights, leaving the strand of twinkle lights on that hung above them from the bedframe. Minho heaved a small, cute sigh.
Chan watched, adoration and pride filling him as his mate reached into his side table and took out a medium-sized dildo. The omega’s cheeks were flushed in embarrassment, but he smiled shyly instead of apologizing. Chan watched, arousal beginning to poke at his stomach as Minho eased himself into a kneel, the hand not holding the toy fiddling with the waistband of his boxers.
The younger boy’s eyes flickered up to his mate. He licked his red lips, his knees sliding further apart, and he smiled.
“Sometimes, it’s … it’s nice to just … hold it. In. Until I, until I fall asleep.”
A blink of something deeper, something more important than either of them, replaced the arousal for a moment, and if Chan wasn’t already wearing his devotion around his ring finger, as well as embedded in the younger boy’s scent gland, he would have dropped to his knees and proposed once more.
Minho slid his boxers to the side in order to poke the tip of the dildo through them, finding his pussy, and wiggled it side to side gently to slide between his outer folds. He looked into Chan’s eyes, his mouth parted in slight gasps as he pushed, and a small shadow of unfocused desire covered his beautiful eyes.
The thick scent of spiced vanilla floated through the space between their bodies, and as Chan’s hand drifted to his lap to palm himself when–
---
Maneuvering Minho up and into his arms wasn’t difficult for Chan, merely a task of steadiness and careful strength. Both of which he felt were all he was good for at times, but he was alright with that.
The softness of their bedspread acted as a layer of cushion around them, protecting them from the world, keeping them in their little bubble.
Minho sighed softly, laying his head down on Chan’s shoulder without second thought, like a child.
Chan cooed under his breath, sinking back and down into the pillows, reaching over to turn off the lights.
“You’re safe, my little one.”
His hand snaked between their bodies, reaching down to his hips, and he managed to slip his jeans down and off his waist, letting them nestle for the moment at his thighs before squirming them all the way off. Cradling Minho's half-naked body in his left arm, he took out his warm, hard, and slightly leaking cock and whispered soothing things to his mate as he lined up blindly.
Through his sleep-daze, Minho made a soft, tender squeak of pleasure when Chan finally sank into the warmth of the omega's pussy, which was now more than efficiently stretched and ready. The insertion was smooth, needed, normal. Routine.
Sleep took them both under her wing, a gentle huff of breath covering them both safely and soundly.
... the next morning ...
Chan knew Minho would wake up nonverbal; he usually did, especially after such scenes. The alpha carried the smaller boy out of bed after an hour or so of simple cuddling and took him to the kitchen, where he could prepare a small, light breakfast for the two of them. As he worked, his mind buzzed quietly, mulling things over. Minho sat at the bar, his knobby knees only bouncing a little in the morning light, staring sleepily at the floor.
The alpha considered letting him kneel for a bit before serving him rice and broth ... but decided against it. There would be plenty of time.
It took about a half-hour to prepare everything, as well as give Minho enough time to gain the power of vocality once more.
Chan chose his timing perfectly, opening his mouth to blurt softly the moment Minho took a small bite of rice,
"You know, you could always just walk through the door and ask me, 'Hyungie, I'm feeling particularly shitty in my head, could you perhaps please help me by spanking my cute, little bottom?' "
Minho cried out most un-Minho-like, burying his face in his hands and turning around, hiding from his mate. Another hiccupping sound ripped from his mouth, this time muffled by his fingers. Chan giggled when he saw the way the omega's ears turned red.
Reaching over, he ruffled Minho's hair.
"It is cute though; you can't tell me it's not."
"Please, just ... stop talking about it ... I think I'm going to die ..."
Chan leaned closer, unable to keep his grin off his face, and whispered, "Talking about what?"
"My ... m-my ..."
"Yes?"
Minho tugged his red, teary face out of his hands and glared lovingly at his mate, murmuring, "Please stop talking about my cute, little bottom ..."
And while his heart was consistently shattering in aggressive pride, Chan decided to be serious, gathering Minho's hands in his and looking him dead in the eyes.
"Hmm. But, here me, yeah? I would much rather you come to me before it gets that bad than put yourself through the pain of that buildup, like last night. That wasn't nice, was it?"
Minho huffed slightly, wrinkling his nose, which was still sore and raw from all the crying. He knew he was trying to deflect, but he couldn't stop himself.
"Well ... the scene was nice ..."
Chan shook his head, and the omega felt his stomach turn slightly. Fuck, he really was feeling subby. A cold sweat covered his lip briefly, but he held tight to the alpha in front of him.
"Not the point," Chan softly spoke, "I'd rather you come to me before I'm worried about you relapsing because of how you're crying over my lap. Yeah?"
The omega looked blankly into his eyes for a long time, but Chan knew that the younger was merely thinking hard. Maybe fighting a few demons as he did.
Finally, Minho swallowed hard and nodded softly.
"Yeah."
---