His eyes flutter open, sun rays shining through the blue tulle curtains. Yunho looks innocently beautiful in moments like this when he’s most vulnerable. Your eyes follow him go through his morning routine. The shirt tossed on the dresser from the night before is slipped over his head, and he stretches his arms up. Ruffling his hair lazily, he looks at the clock on his nightstand. It’s almost 1 in the afternoon. Neither of you is surprised he slept in this much.

As he leaves the room, you glance over noting his phone isn’t plugged in. He always forgets to charge it overnight. You lean over his bed to fix his oversight and hear the shower turn on in the other room.

The bathroom door is cracked, and you push it enough to step inside. Yunho’s eyes dart to the movement, toothbrush in mouth.

“When are they gonna fix that?” He grumbles to himself with his mouth full of toothpaste and shuts the door until it clicks.

You chuckle, gaze landing on the shower handle turned slightly to cold. He’s a hot shower kind of person; he must’ve been half asleep when turning it. You bump it a little more to the hot side.

His arm swiftly reaches in front of your face, nimble fingers gauging the water’s temperature. You stand back and allow him room to undress before stepping under the gentle spray. The smooth expanse of his back tempts you to reach out, but you don’t. Once he’s in with the curtain pulled, you quietly sneak out, making sure the door is closed all the way.

Yunho isn’t the best cook thus needs all the help he can get. You know he doesn’t have a clue what to make. First, you search through the refrigerator and move his tub of kimchi to the front. Next, you make sure he has a clean pan that’s big enough. It’s unsurprising that the only large one is dirty. Before he finishes in the bathroom, you wash the pan quickly in the sink and stow it away in the correct cabinet. Finally, you tidy up the living room but not enough for a noticeable difference.

Wiping away some dust on his bookshelf, you discover a framed picture of yourself. Teeth dig into your bottom lip holding back your emotions as you carefully lay it face down. Before you can seep into the past, the hairdryer turns on in the bathroom.

You seat yourself at the kitchen island waiting for Yunho to raid the fridge. It’s sad that you know his routine like the back of your hand, but the poor boy is pretty predictable. When he finally does, you judge him for settling on cereal. You always hate that he doesn’t eat something healthier.

He places the bowl in front of the stool next to you and goes to retrieve his phone. Once sat down, he slowly eats as he scrolls through social media apps with an occasional text message. It’s a quarter past two when he finally rinses his bowl and starts cleaning the apartment.

As he continues his chores into the bedroom, you slyly plug in his air freshener. He claims he can’t te