As Sehun gently shuts his door with his free hand, little Luhan shifts just a little and rolls over. Sehun sees this as his chance to wake the boy up, so he hurriedly sits on the side of his bed and curls one of his fingers, it coming to rub Luhan’s back softly as he can. Luhan stirs, frowning at the intrusion into his dream. Sehun momentarily wonders what he’s dreaming about so peacefully, but is then shocked to see Luhan staring back at him with a small smile.

“Lu, you can’t sleep in my hand,” Sehun reasons and puts his hand flat against the bed sheets, intending for Luhan to crawl off of him.

Instead, Luhan shifts his limbs around a bit and curls up once more, shutting his eyes again with a mumbled squeaking. Sehun assumes it would have been some kind of protest against his new found comfy spot.

“It won’t be as comfortable as the bed,” Sehun whispers and briefly thinks about picking Luhan up to move him. He rethinks this quickly, imagining he might squish the poor fellow if he put any pressure on him. He seemed like some kind of tiny porcelain doll that was as fragile as a feather that would break if he even talked too loud.

In response to his whispering, Luhan rolls around and rests his chin on one of his forearms, looking up at Sehun with begging puppy-dog eyes.

“No, don’t do that,” Sehun pleads as he knows it’s his weak spot. “That’s not fair, it won’t be comfortable on my hand! And I might crush you when I fall asleep!” Sehun knew the answer to that, he just wouldn’t sleep. If the little guy wanted to sleep on his hand, he could. Sehun just wouldn’t sleep. He’d make himself a coffee and stay up the whole night to make sure little Luhan was comfy. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t try.

As Luhan couldn’t speak to try and argue his point of Sehun’s hand being incredibly comfy, he just decided he’d crawl off and onto the bed sheets with a crestfallen expression. Flopping into the sheets and pulling at them lightly, he tries to get them loose enough to use as duvet. Sehun just laughs breathily as a response, disappearing into the bathroom adjoined to his bedroom. There he changes into some jogging bottoms he left on the floor this morning and ponders with stripping his shirt off like usually would, but he doesn’t want to scare Luhan into Jongin’s room, so he keeps it on.

When he returns to the room, he sees Luhan still pulling at the sheets with all his might and really failing to get anywhere since there was a safety pin on each corner of the mattress to prevent the sheets from coming off while Sehun slept. Of course Luhan wouldn’t get any success, but he didn’t know that. Sehun just gently picked the duvet up one side of Luhan and tried not to throw him off as he got comfy under the covers. He then shuffled over as much as he could without falling off and held up the duvet, motioning for Luhan to crawl underneath. He did cautiously, lying down then quickly and waiting for the covers to weigh him down immensely. What he didn’t notice however, was when Sehun had undone the duvet cover and shuffled the actually duvet body over to one side (his side) and left just the sheets the other side. It would lessen the chances of it suffocating Luhan, and the little guy was caught off guard when the soft and light sheets floated down on top of him.

With a startled expression, he looked up and prodded the sheets, finding absolutely no duvet in them. He was still warm enough, so he looked over and threw Sehun a smile, which he returned wordlessly and shut his eyes. Though Sehun’s hand was still comfier in Luhan’s personal opinion, he managed to get comfy and shut his eyes soon after the giant lying next to him, falling asleep easily in the warmth of Sehun’s bed.

* *

Over in Kris’ room, he had done a similar thing to Sehun, shuffling the duvet over to one side of the sheets so as not to crush his new friend. The new person he would be able to converse with in his native tongue, just as he had wished he could do for so long. But even though he was comfy and warm and sleepy, he couldn’t drift off no matter how hard he tried. It was all Zitao’s fault, since Kris was laid thinking about what he would talk to the little guy about first. Family? Past? Why he was so little? It all seemed so important and yet so trivial, he just wanted to talk about everything! You don’t understand it until you’re in a foreign country with five other boys of it’s origin, and only then will you start to miss talking in the language you learnt growing up.

Zitao’s asleep in an instant, in love with the prospect of talking so freely with his new roommate tomorrow when they’d figured out a way to understand each other. Maybe he could write everything