It was another long day at the office and life could not get any more boring for Cho Kyuhyun, data entry specialist.

            He woke up from his computer-induced coma, the jack in his spinal port still warm. Reaching back to pull it out, he sat up in his reclined, faux leather chair and groggily eyed his surroundings. He was still in his stupid little cubicle with the grey walls and the single girl group poster hanging up above his desk. (The only reason it was there was because his boss, Park Jungsu, insisted that he had to have something to spruce up the place – he thought it promoted “synergy” and “corporate morale”.)

            Looking at his watch, it read 16:04. He cursed under his breath, realizing he only had about forty minutes to complete his report before crunch-time hit – it was always around the end of the shift that Heechul would come gliding over to his cubicle and beg him to help him out with his report, only to leave Kyuhyun finishing it for him. Lithe fingers flew across the keyboard of his small computer in a desperate attempt to beat the clock; he somehow managed to send it in right at 16:45. He shut off the monitor, grabbing his bag and jacket not a second before he heard Heechul humming some stupid little song and making his way towards Kyuhyun’s location.

            He dashed over towards Sungmin’s next-door cubicle, knowing his favorite co-worker and childhood friend would hide him from their senior’s wrath. After Sungmin insisted that he hadn’t seen Kyuhyun go past his door all day and Heechul marched off in a huff, Kyuhyun left a candy bar on Sungmin’s desk and a playful kiss on his cheek before he made his way towards the exit.

            Down in the lobby, the pretty receptionist girl stopped him to scan the barcode tattooed on the inside of his wrist, effectively clocking him out and releasing him for the weekend. He didn’t have anything better to do than sit at home and zone out in front of his desktop, but anything was better than being in that hellhole. A five-minute walk to the nearest rail station and a crowded subway ride led him to his small apartment in some creaky little high-rise that had to have been built in the 2100’s. Kyuhyun thought the historical value made it quaint.

            He made his way up to his floor and noticed a man huddled up against his door, sleeping soundly and without a single care as to where he was or who was watching him. Kyuhyun couldn’t help but roll his eyes as he strode over to his door to wake him up.

            “Donghae, you need to wake up. You fell asleep in the hallway again,” Kyuhyun said as he shook the smaller man’s frame. “Did you forget your keys again?”

            The man known as Donghae stirred out of his slumber and looked up into Kyuhyun’s darker-than-black eyes with his own soft brown ones, giving him the best doe eyes he could muster under such short notice. “I did. I’m sorry, Kyuhyun; I guess I’m just a klutz. Do you mind if I sleep on your couch again? Last time, I promise.” He flashed him his signature smile that always managed to get a few extra tips at the club, earning yet another eye-roll from the younger man. He stood up and brushed off his pants as Kyuhyun passed his barcode over the small scanner installed next to his door. The door slid open and both men entered, both glad to be away from their jobs.

            Lee Donghae was a dancer at an “exotic nightclub” and he worked many late nights. It wasn’t something he was particularly proud of, but there wasn’t much else he could do without a barcode or a port. His mother taught him from an early age to take care of the body she gave him, so he never once put anything he deemed “unnatural” on or in his body – not a single tattoo or piercing touched his skin, much less cybernetic accoutrements. Dancing for Donghae was like computers for Kyuhyun - it was his life. Sadly, there weren’t many respectable occupations for dancers anymore, so he had to do what he could to make ends meet. Sure, he got a lot of for being a stripper, but he made people happy and the money wasn’t terrible.

           In addition to several other quirks, Donghae had a terrible habit of misplacing nearly everything he owned (keys were a particular weakness); so he often depended on his next-door neighbor to harbor him until he got another key. This dependence led to a somewhat tenuous friendship between the two, which somehow has lasted for the past year. Neither of the two understood why Kyuhyun put up with it. (Donghae suspected it was because, deep down, Kyuhyun hates being alone. He never said anything to him about it, though.)

           “You want anything, Donghae? I’m sure you’re starving,” Kyuhyun yelled as he wandered over towards the kitchen after dropping his things unceremoniously next to the door. He peeked over the door of the refrigerator in time to see his neighbor shuffle his way past the kitchen, the couch, and the bathroom towards his bedroom. “Hey, where are you going? I thought you said you were going to sleep on the couch, .” He stormed off towards the back of the apartment where he just knew Donghae would be sprawled all over his bed and sniffing his pillows. He hated people sniffing his pillows.

           Donghae certainly didn’t disappoint. He had his arms wrapped around one of Kyuhyun’s goose feather pillows while his face buried itself in its softness, the rest of his body curled up around it in the fetal position. He didn’t even bother taking off his beat-up Chucks.

           “You know, if you’re going to be a lazy bastard, you could at least have the common decency to get your shoes off of my bed. Do you know how hard it was to get a hold of this bed set? That is an antique quilt and those sheets are ing Egyptian cotton. Egyptian cotton, Donghae. They haven’t made those sheets since the late 20th century, which makes them really ing old and really delicate. You’re also burying your stupid face in my silk pillows which they stopped making in the 21st century. You’re lucky geese still produce feathers or I would be ten kinds more pissed.”

           “Sorry, Hyunnie. I have a weakness for soft things,” Donghae murmured as he sat up to pull off his shoes, watching as Kyuhyun scrunched up his face at his new nickname. “I’ll wash them later if you want.”

           “You’re going to have a weakness for my fists if you do it again,” he groused as he helped Donghae get his shoes off. As soon as the sneakers hit the floor, Donghae reached up and pulled Kyuhyun onto the bed, causing the latter to let out a rather embarrassing yelp of surprise. He replaced the pillow with Kyuhyun and pulled him close, holding him in his rather tight embrace. “Buttering me up won’t make me let you sleep here. I’m not one of your customers, Donghae; you can’t make me do whatever you want because you smiled at me.”

          “True. But you’ve yet to push me off or kick me out. I won you over somehow, right? Even with my face being stupid and everything.” With that, Donghae snuggled Kyuhyun closer while Kyuhyun scowled at the ceiling. He hated just how pathetic his neighbor made him. Donghae took the opportunity to grab Kyuhyun’s wrist and stare at the barcode tattoo like he always did, marvelling at the little lines and numbers. “Did it hurt, Hyunnie? I bet it did.”

         “Not at all. Got it the same time I got the port installed – I was asleep the entire time. You should at least get a barcode, Hae. If every other day is any indication, it makes life a lot easier.”

         “You know how I feel about my body. Besides, I wouldn’t have any excuse to come over here and bother you.” With that, he pressed the other man’s wrist to his lips, ghosting a small kiss upon the lines and numbers before he turned to press another one to his cheek. “Good night, Hyunnie.” Within seconds, the smaller man was asleep, still clutching Kyuhyun’s thin frame to his considerably more muscular one. Kyuhyun still scowled at the ceiling, confused and blushing. Donghae always managed to shut him up like that.

         He briefly considered switching to the new synthetic fabrics, but he fell asleep after he decided that it was a terrible idea and that nothing beats Egyptian cotton – especially if it also meant having warm arms around him.