Sleeping like a rock came to a literal sense for Minho that morning. His alarm seemed to blare throughout the living room, the ear screeching tune bouncing far into the hallways of your bedroom and yet you see no signs of life from him still.

When he snoozed past it the third time, you had no choice but to rid of the sleep that clung stubbornly on your tired eyelids. Resting your head on your arm, you peeped at him, taut back towards you as he lay undisturbed in deep slumber. He must have slipped in at the crack of dawn and it wasn’t so much of a surprise to see you camped out in the living room, the muted glow of the TV keeping your lonely night company.

Four days since he was home and your chest tightens seeing him this exhausted. On similar occasions you’d wake up in the morning, tucked comfortably in your side of the bed. Knowing that he’d somehow managed to budge you awake to come and sleep with him in the middle of the night. If all else fails, he’d carry you in himself, too worn out to bear your groggy protests.

But work must have taken its toll on him this time, opting to crash in the living room with you instead.

The alarm erupts once more and you whine silently into the pillow, crawling awkwardly over to him as you scramble your hands across his torso for his phone.

Just as you repeatedly tap out your annoyance over the off button, Minho stirs in his sleep, catching his eyes squinting open to frown heavily at your hovering figure.

“Go back to sleep, hm?”

You reach out to caress his cheeks and he leans in automatically into your touch while grumbling out something you couldn’t quite catch. He looked worse for wear, fatigue swelled his handsome features yet it only made him more real than most days. You rake your fingers slowly over his bed ridden hair and you wonder if he’s gone back to sleep when he sighs in content. A smile leaves you, soaking in the serenity of the moment since this would be the only time he would ever be still.

Curling against him would probably have been best when he hurls your waist over to him before you could leave the mess of duvet and tangled limbs. So much for a quiet morning.

“Minho…” You stifle a cry into the crook of his neck, your struggle to get off him a wasted effort.

“No.” He whispers hoarsely, ruffling his nose to your unruly hair, “I’m not letting you go. It’s too early to get out of bed.”

He tightens his arms around you and you couldn’t help but sink in the traces of his favourite cologne lingering on his warm skin.

“Your stupid alarm woke me up.” You murmur, trailing a fleet of kisses along his neck and he groans, shuddering from something other than the cold air.

“I’m sorry.” His apology sounded sincere, and you chuckle silently knowing why he preferred you in bed. Little .

“Well, I’m awake now.” You chirp a little too happily and it earned you a muffled cry from him, though it didn’t stop you from noticing the hand that sneaked up your shirt.

“Rise and shine, Song Minho-ssi!”

He drops his head to your shoulders in defeat and you squirm free from his embrace.

“It’s too cold! Get back here…” Minho begs, thick brows furrowed in irritation and all you could focus on was how adorable he looks. His dark hair falling softly over a lazy stare, one that you must admit, didn’t leave you for a second.

“You’re cold? Is that all?”

“Yes.” He shoots you a smile that robbed you of your breath, and you know well that he’d meant otherwise.

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