Your music ran through your speakers, supplying you with upbeat songs to motivate you to actually clean, and hopefully make it just the slightest bit more fun.

 

Your living room was a disaster zone after the holidays; glasses (both empty and full of whatever beverage it had been holding) placed on nearly every surface, paper plates littered the coffee table and both end tables, and various christmas bows were strewn across the room. You sighed, maybe having a holiday party with twenty people in your coat-closet of an apartment wasn’t the best idea. Maybe I should find friends who know how to clean up after themselves.

 

Now, dressed in the most comfortable clothing you own--a onesie designed to look like a fox, primary a rusty orangey brown color and complete with the ears--you decided to try and tackle the mess that was you livingroom and kitchen.

 

The key word in that statement would be try.

 

Cleaning was no fun, and not even Block B’s Her would make it any better, so when cleaning dissolved into dancing halfway through the job, you weren’t entirely surprised. One song led to another, each eliciting their own dance from you.

 

You really didn’t plan on having anyone over, which is why, when someone came up behind you and wrapped their arms around you, a squeak made it’s way past your lips. It wasn’t until the new-comer let out a groan upon being elbowed in the diaphragm that you released it was not, in fact, a burglar, but Jung Hoseok, your boyfriend of two years.

 

There was no more struggle to get out of his grasp, instead, you freely twisted your body away from his and looked at him with wide eyes.

 

“Oh my God, Hoseok,” you gasped, eyes wide as you looked him over once, trying to see if he was badly injured. “Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you too bad, right? Do you need to go see a doctor? I’ll call Jin and he can drive us! Oh gosh, honey, are you alright?”

 

If he was actually able to breathe, your boyfriend would have been laughing at your extreme concern for him. Instead, he opted to give you a smile and just shake his head. “I’m fine,” he wheezed, making his way to your sofa, not three feet behind him. “I just...I just need a second.”

So you waited, anxiously chewing on you lip before leaving to fetch him a glass of water.

 

Upon your return, the rapper had his head resting in his hands, a huge smile on his face.

 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” you asked, passing him the glass. He took with a nod nod of his head.

 

“I promise you I’m fine,” Hoseok reassured you, taking a sip of the ice cold water. It didn’t go unappreciated, especially after the torture that was practice. “If anything, I’m glad you know how to defend yourself. Now stop leaving your doors unlocked.”

 

You plopped down next to him, placing your head on his shoulder. “You scared the living daylights out of me, Hobi! Why didn’t you tell me you were coming over, anyway? I would have at least tried to look decent.”

 

He turned his head the slightest, pressing his lips lightly against your forehead. “I wanted it to be a surprise,” he shrugged. “And you look cute all day, everyday.”

 

It took you a lot to not laugh at his words, because, however cheesy, he was sincere, which is one of the reasons you fell for him in the first place. “Thanks, but I hope you know I haven’t showered since yesterday, and I have been wearing my pajamas for the past three days,” you said.

 

“Still the cutest,” he said, starting to get up from his place on the couch. “Now come on.”

 

A pout formed on your face as you moved off of him. “What are you doing? I was comfortable,” you protested, crossing your arms to try and look the tiniest bit intimidating.

 

You knew it wouldn’t work though.

 

“Dancing,” he said simply, grabbing one of your hands. Hoseok was not in the least bit phased by the look you were giving him.

“But I have to clean up,” you whined, allowing Hoseok to pull you up from the sofa.

 

“What you were doing didn’t look much like cleaning,” he laughed. His next move was to turn the music back on, this time playing mutual favorite: Up and Down by EXID.

“Now come on,” he said, finally getting you to your feet. “Dance with me.”