The Infinite  members stumble into the dorm, messily kicking off their shoes in the foyer and leaning headlong until they land on their beds in one of the three bedrooms which branch from the living room. Exhaustion, previously obscured by adrenaline and drinks, was now facilitated by at least one of the two and most fell asleep as soon as they hit the mattress. A well-deserved rest; after all, they had just scored their first #1 on a weekly music chart.

Dongwoo can barely keep his eyes open, but he sits himself at a desk facing a corner of the dark living room and twists the lamp on, dutifully pulling out and opening his journal and a pen from a compartment in the bottom of the left drawer. Now and then his chin tucks into his chest and the pen stops moving, but only for a few seconds before he blinks back awake and continues writing.

There’s a couch in the center of the living room which faces the TV, just small enough to make anyone lying on it feel not quite comfortable.

“What are you doing?” Hoya’s drowsy voice floats over from the coach.

“Writin.” Dongwoo’s pronunciation is even clumsier than usual, thanks to the tiredness. His pen doesn’t lift from the pages.

“Well, yeah…”

“Making sure I remember, you know.”

“You think you could really forget?”

Even when tired, Dongwoo’s laugh cuts through the air with wide-awake clarity. “It’s amazing what we can forget in a couple years.”

“In a couple years there will be other wins to remember, though.”

Dongwoo’s pen scratches across the paper and Hoya lays on the couch for a few more minutes, smiling absently at the dark TV, before swinging his legs off and getting up.

“Night,” he says, shutting the door to his bedroom behind him.

“Good night,” Dongwoo replies.  He sits at the desk for a couple extra minutes, finishing his entry, then replaces the notebook and pen in their compartment, switches off the lamp, and softly makes his way to his bedroom.