#mnho

Chan:

There’s rarely a day where Chan sleeps longer than you. Normally, he’s pretty busy with this or that and doesn’t have the luxury of faffing around in the mornings. That, coupled by frequent bouts of insomnia, makes sure that you are the first and last one in bed. Today, however, was one of those rarities that you so relished. Bundled so perfectly in the sheets, Chan snores in hushed tones that are melodic to your ears. You quietly lie next to him, threading your fingers through his unruly curls and just appreciate the serenity. He stirs ever so softly, just enough to let you know he’s awake but not so much to startle you and lose the feeling of your fingers stroking his hair. A small chuckle falls from your lips and he mimics you almost instantly. “Shhh,” you hush him, hands never ceasing, “Go back to sleep.” “No,” he says with certainty, although his faux adamancy in waking is short lived as you place a soft kiss on top of his head. “Just five more minutes.”“Just five more minutes,” you repeat with a smile.

Minho: 

A day’s work is usually wearisome for you but today was an entirely new level of exhaustion. Rest is calling your name, taunting you as you lumber your way into your shared apartment and just as you kick your shoes off your tired feet, an aromatic aroma of the most pleasant scents waft about you. Curious and feeling a lot more awake, you follow the succulent smells radiating from the kitchen and smile once you locate the source. Minho’s shirt sleeves are rolled loosely around his elbows and an apron adorns his torso in a snug fit. He barely seems to notice you, so engrossed in frying a medley of colourful vegetables so when you gently clear your throat, his eyes widen ever so slightly as he finally takes notice. “Ah you’re home already?” he observes, a hint of panic laced underneath his cool exterior, “I thought I’d have more time to finish.” You shake your head and laugh quietly, taking a seat at the breakfast bar while letting your head lean on your hands, “Lose track of time?” 

With a heaving sigh and a delicate nod, he resumes cooking but not without a stern telling for you to go and unwind while he finishes up. 

“Five more minutes,” he says matter-of-factly, adding final seasonings to the vivid assortment, “Go relax, honey.”

Changbin:

Nights of drinking with friends are something you hold dear to you; time is precious since you work so often. At the time, you are without care. In the morning to follow however, with head hazy and ears ringing, you begin to wonder if it was worth it. With struggle, you manage to sit up in bed and notice immediately the absence of your boyfriend Changbin. “Bin?” You croak and decide that you definitely  need water,  “Bin?”

There’s some rustling from elsewhere in the house, the sharp ringing in your ears prevents you from knowing the exact source but with a guess, the kitchen. “Just wait five more minutes!” You hear Changbin yell and you wonder just what he’s up to. Then, silence once more. For a while, you sit there; watching the minutes tick past when finally you huff in annoyance and decide to go see just what’s going on. Just as you gain momentum to move, footsteps approach. Changbin appears in the doorframe, still dressed in the hoodie and sweatpants he sleeps in with a smile reaching ear to ear. In his hand are various breakfast items gathered neatly on a tray with a tall glass of water on the side. 

“Breakfast,” he states with a notion towards the tray, “Thought you’d need it after last night.”  

How did you end up so lucky?

Hyunjin: 

To say Hyunjin is a deep sleeper is an understatement; he’s notorious for sleeping through even the loudest alarms and most vigorous shakes. ‬It’s only when you wriggle free from his grasp and climb out of bed to start your day that he gently stirs from his slumber, head propped up on the palms of his hands with eyes still fluttered closed. “Come back to bed,” he’d demand in a deep whisper, throat full of unfinished dreams. “Five more minutes.”  When you sternly tell him that, no—you have things to do today, he would pout. With eyes still closed and a furrowed brow, he’d hover the duvet so delicately in the air and grunt in disapproval. Now you can see him clearly in the morning light, wrapped in your favourite grey hoodie with his knees almost touching his chest.

Minho tiptoes into his pitch-black bedroom as quietly as possible, managing to avoid tripping over any stray shoes or halfway unpacked luggage. He’s been meaning to clean all this up, he really has, but this new drama he’s acting in has been completely consuming his time and energy. At the end of every cheesy romance and melodramatic argument filled day, all Minho really wants to do is collapse into bed. Maybe if he waits long enough, Key will give up on nagging and just pick everything up for him.

Minho finally finds the light switch, flicks it on, and nearly pisses himself when the now brightened room reveals a person in his bed. He stumbles back into the wall, his mind already conjuring up every horrifying intruder scene or gory murder mystery he’s seen in movies. He picks up a lone boot beside the wall, completely prepared to beat the person to death with the ugly Lucifer era shoe, when they stretch and flip over.

“Taemin?”

“Yeah, hyung?”

“What are you doing?” He sets the boot down again, a little embarrassed that he seriously thought his 100 lb bandmate was a murderous intruder.

“Sleeping.”

“In my bed?”

“Huh.” Taemin rubs his eyes and looks around the room, making a show of his supposed obliviousness. “I guess so. How weird.” He stretches, letting out a breathy little moan. It's at this point Minho realizes Taemin is in nothing but ridiculously tight Spongebob underwear. Oh my god. Taemin’s eyebrows raise and the corners of his mouth turn upward when Minho’s eyes widen.

“Sleep with me.”