"Urgh,” growled the tall, brown haired model, sprawling himself out on the couch. The studio he was in was bustling with energy; staffs were running around making sure that everything was perfect, stylists were tidying up models outfits and make-up, and the director was pacing around nervously.

                The model let out another large sigh, turning to shove his face into the white couch that had been kindly provided for the models to sit or lay on whilst waiting for their turn to strut their stuff.

                “Don’t do that Sungyeol,” said a serious, yet slightly amused voice, grabbing the back of the model’s shirt to keep his face from landing on the couch. “The stylist nunas will be outraged if you ruin their perfect make-up job,” the man continued the humor in his voice becoming more pronounced.

                Sungyeol sat up glaring at the man viciously. Not only was the photographer taking forever, but Hoya – his manager and best friend – just had to decide to be snarky today. Why did Sungyeol even hire him in the first place?

                “The photographer has exactly 2 minutes and 27 seconds to arrive before he’s late and if he’s late we get paid for every extra minute we have to stay,” observed Hoya. The muscular man was dressed in slacks and a buttoned up white shirt that clung to him tightly accenting his defined muscles, a black tie was positioned perfectly on his broad chest. Hoya was attractive enough to be a model himself, but he was a man that was driven by business and his passions rather than beauty. Sungyeol claimed that Hoya refused to even audition though because of his less than stunning stature, or as Sunyeol put it mockingly his “shortness”.

                “I don’t care,” whined  Sungyeol wiggling his body about in a way he figured would show his exasperation, but only resulted in him looking like a worm, a fact that Hoya took joy in pointing out to him. “Hmph,” replied Sungyeol sitting up. Brushing his caramel bangs to the side he turned to observe the door where the director was pacing nervously, a bead of sweat rolling down his face, as he continuously looked from his cellphone to the door in hopes that the absent photographer would appear.

                “1 minute 29 second,” stated Hoya as he too turned his calculating eyes upon the door, curious as to whether the photographer would actually make it in time.

                Myungsoo turned about in his bed contentedly. His bed was so comfortable he wished he never had to leave it. He was so in love with sleeping that he had even threatened to marry his bed before. His Hyung had scoffed at this profession, telling him he couldn’t even if he wanted to.

                That night Myungsoo had searched the google machine for answers on how to get married to his bed. He realized that night that he was not the only one who felt this way. One comment especially struck a chord in his heart. “Me and my bed have this beautiful relationship. Whenever I'm with my bed, I feel warm and comfortable and safe. But my stupid alarm clock is trying to break us up. My bed hates my alarm clock and so do I. I think it's about time I told that alarm clock to get lost and then finally propose to my bed.” Myungsoo full-heartedly agreed with this comment, that darned alarm clock always had to go and ring at the most inopportune moments.

                At this thought Myungsoo shot up: his alarm clock hadn’t gone off.

Hi! This is my first time attempting to write fanfic on AFF. I've written some fanfiction before, but never any kpop ones so this'll be a new experience for me. I'm a silent reader who's read mountains worth of Infinite fanfiction and rather than continuing to creep around in the shadows I've decided to add my own story to the mountains of Infinite fanfiction. This story will most likely be a one-shot (ONLY ONE SHOT, ONLY ONE SHOT) and I'll post it.... eventually. Thanks for checking it out!