Seungri woke up very slowly, much to his satisfaction. It had been a while since he had slept so long and so deeply, and didn’t have to wake up to the annoying sounds of the city or his alarm clock. He let his muscles do as they wished, and when he had his eyes about half-way open, he decided to stretch out his limbs to bring himself to full-awareness. Groans accompanied each stretch and he rolled out of bed afterwards, staggering to the bathroom he shared with Seunghyun. It was clear the elder had already been by – a damp towel was hung over the rack to dry and his toothbrush still glistened with water.

     Seeing Seunghyun's towel made Seungri turn around to retrieve his own, digging through his pile of stuff and making a smaller mess within the bigger mess. When he finally unearthed his towel, he retreated back to the bathroom and started the shower. After he watched the stream grow strong and saw steam begin to rise, he shed his clothes and stepped into the shower box, face upturned to the hot water. The sudden change in temperature woke him up fully, and he spent a few moments just exposing each part of his body to the hot water, watching his skin turn a rosy hue.

     He had forgotten his soap and shampoo in his disaster-area of a room, so he snuck a bit of Seunghyun's, thinking he wouldn't really mind. When he stepped out of the shower box, steam clouded the top half of the room, making him feel like a titan. He watched the water evaporation swirl as he toweled his hair off and wrapped the towel around his waist. He clicked off the light as he left, padding across the wooden floor of his room. He could faintly hear the water droplets dripping from his hair hit the floor.

     It took him ten minutes find a pair of underwear, and an additional five minutes to find a pair of jeans.  He was sticking his books neatly on his new bookshelf in an attempt to organize the room and find a shirt, when someone knocked on his door.

     “Come in,” he shouted, not looking back as he stacked Harry Potter next to The Lord of the Rings, too focused on the task at hand to be bothered by whoever was at his door.

     “Hey, Jiyong says you need to come get breakfast or he's going to force feed you,” Daesung's voice came from the direction of the door.

     “That's very maternal,” Seungri turned around and frowned at Daesung at briefly. The elder was hanging in the open doorway, looking around the room uncertainly, maybe confused by the mess or trying to figure out where he should stand. Seungri decided to let him figure it out on his own and he bent down to pick up the next stack of books. “Why is he going to force feed me eggs?”

     “You didn't eat last night. He didn't like that, but missing two meals is a big no-no in his book, and I'm pretty sure he wants to train you today,” Daesung explained, venturing further into the room, still looking around at the disarray of Seungri's stuff.

     “But people are coming to my old apartment to pick up furniture,” Seungri protested lightly, discovering and tugging a shirt free from under a stack of books. He pulled it on, picking his way over to Daesung.

     “It's our place where we train, it's always a minute to midnight there. Or one of us can go pretend to be you. We can read an ebay page you know. It'll be fine,” Daesung led the way to the communal living room, where Seunghyun was sprawled over the couch, scraping at a plate of eggs and kimichi with his eyes on the television. An anime was on, something with swords. Taeyang was there too, but he was sitting on the floor in front of the couch, enjoying a bowl of cereal.

     “Morning,” Seungri called out as they passed.

     Noises of agreement came from them, but their eyes remained glued on the screen. Daesung veered off to join them, and Seungri just shook his head, wondering how they could find television so engrossing. He pushed through the door that lead to the kitchen, where Jiyong was whirling around in a pink apron. Seungri was startled for a moment, pausing halfway through the door. He was hesitating now, wondering if he should run back to the group in front of the television, but before he could decide, Jiyong spotted him.

     “Morning, Seungri,” he sang, picking up a clean plate and piling food on it. “Sleep well?” he asked cheerfully, sticking his head into the fridge. He retrieved a mostly full jug of orange juice and bounced over to the counter, reaching up and opening the cabinet over his head. He retrieved a glass, and it chinked as he set down on the counter. Seungri watched him unscrew the top of the jug of and fill the glass with the juice. Jiyong put the jug down and picked up the steaming plate and glass and passed them to Seungri.

     “Yeah. You seem happy,” Seungri took the plate that was offered to him, along with the glass of orange juice. He cast a look over the food, trying to find any indicators that it was poisoned. The same man that had nearly been at his throat yesterday was now making him food like a mother hen, and it concerned him slightly.

     “Yeah, sorry I was such a before,” Jiyong apologized, leaning against the counter. He looked completely relaxed, no trace of the that existed just the other day.  “I was a little...tense. I'll be better now. Swear on it.”

     “Right,” Seungri chuckled, both remembering and trying to suppress the memories of last night. “It's fine. You're under a lot of pressure. I get it. Thanks for the food.” Seungri gestured with his plate and backed out of the kitchen, balancing his food carefully as he back-stepped.

     “You're welcome!”

     Seungri shook his head, a small smile on his face. He turned around and joined Seunghyun on the couch as he moved to make room. “Did Jiyong play nice?” Taeyang asked, leaning to the side so Seungri could squeeze between him and Daesung to settle on the sofa.

     “Yes.” Seungri crossed his legs so he could balance his plate better.

     “Well, that's everyone,” Daesung looked at Taeyang. “Jiyong's officially stopped being such a .”

     Taeyang nodded, giving Daesung a side-eye. “What do we say?” he asked, taking a deep breath to prepare himself for the spiel he was about to spit.

     “Tha