snow goddamn white

         Albeit waking up to the cliché sound of birds chirping beautifully and bright rays of sunlight creeping through the pastel curtains of her room was considered a rather common situation the brunette had never experienced in her twenty-and-a-few years of existence, Tiffany believed one day she’d be able to start the day in pure delight. In three days, perhaps. Tomorrow, who knows? But definitely not that one dawn. Instead, Tiffany woke up to a noisy Taeyeon and the picture of said woman shambling around the place– in her clothes: an oversized band shirt and a pair of gray cotton shorts. 

            Blinking and squeezing her eyes, the brunette confirmed the sudden materialization before her, jerking up on the bed immediately. “What the–– How did you–, I mean, what?!" High pitched exclamations cut her dry throat and escaped hoarsely, barely echoing and seeming harmless. At that moment, no way she was supposed to worry about bed-hair and bare face or seeming presentable, but she did anyways, letting her eyes fall on her own clothing pick to find out her nightgown was a little revealing – she would probably die with the image of Taeyeon’s lopsided grin in her mind. 

            As fast as it hit her, Tiffany hogged the blankets to herself in order to hide her slightly exposed body and crimson face, left to hear Taeyeon’s crack joke about being as useful as a new pajama set– and hopefully, an explanation. ”Taeyeon-ah!” She shrieked. 

            Well, in the end, she didn’t wake up to the harmony of birds chirping, nor to the day’s clarity– but she couldn’t ask for better morning, or daybreak. 

           Squinted chocolate eyes attempted to decipher the poorly glimmering numbers under the only source of light currently on, which came from the lamp placed on the nightstand next to Jinyoung’s bed, where said person lifelessly appeased. Tiffany’s hand still lingered on the boy’s burning skin, awaiting to be replaced by a wet cloth previously prepared, once the chances of being useful were pretty high considering the first impressions she had of him that afternoon; The brunette woman suddenly missed his majestic aura. “38.5°C,” 101.3°F, approximately 311.65 K. “You do have a fever,” she sighed softly, pursing her lips right away. 

        As was a red fruits cheesecake he produced with a flourish from behind the kitchen door, Tiffany gasped a high note of delight when Minki presented it to her. It looked extremely inviting, with a fat amount of velvety, fresh berries on top (which meant they wouldn’t have to fight for a lone cherry) and almost burned biscuit, which seemed crunchy. A strawberry glaze lent vibrant color to the dessert, sticky syrup glimmering like rubies under the small fruits. The cake looked incredibly amazing, not to mention it was her favorite sweet and the fact made her ponder if cheese sat well with everything– plus, if someday kangaroos would run the world. Tiffany almost gave up on the idea of sharing it with the cooker. 

        “Damn, it looks wonderful, Minki,” the dessert landed on the table with a soft thud of the plate and a content grin the evening’s chef wore genuinely, one that lit up the already comfortable atmosphere and infected the lady accommodated across him, who flashed Minki a huge smile of her own, keenly nearing her curious face to the dessert. “I wonder if it tastes as nice as it appears,” and a teasing wiggling of eyebrows followed her words– needless to say Tiffany was ready to dig in.