The first thing that reaches his ears that morning is the strong heart beat lying beneath him, though it’s quickly made itself a constant; the first thing of notice that reaches his ears, that isn’t the calming rhythm that lulls him to sleep with its presence and warmth (and is still threatening to pull him back into the cocoon of unconsciousness), is a soft tapping on the window. It’s a sharp noise, only able to be made by certain form coming into contact with one another- specifically something hard with the glass panes. That in mind, Kwon Jiyong is most definitely Not one to rise earlier than completely necessary on his days off- that, and his current position is too comfortable to pass up, one leg tossed over his boyfriend’s waist and the other tangled with Seunghyun’s longer limbs while his arm lay securely over the larger man’s torso.

While he may have been converting Seunghyun into a breathing pillow he still hadn’t heard any complaints, so he had yet to move himself. He’s too comfy here, anyway.

Well- he would be, if that annoying tapping hadn’t decided to pick back up.

Bleary brown eyes slowly blink open in agitation at having his sleep-in day interrupted, feeling more so than hearing a low rumble beneath him as the first sign of his pillow waking up as well. There’s an owl at the window.

The first deep sigh of waking up fills his nostrils as Jiyong pushes himself up by the arms, untangling their legs with a soft huff. His hair’s a mess, sticking up on one side, and there’s a large red spot on his right cheek from where it had been pressed between them (Seunghyun thinks it’s cute).

“Looks like Seungri’s owl,” he says.

With an annoyed grumble Jiyong hauls himself up and over his larger counterpart, effectively ruffling the sheets and half-dragging them along with him as he trips to the ground. His vision is still blurry from sleep and his legs are wobbly from disuse (and also last night’s shower), but he finally makes It to the window and opens it. Cool October air makes him shiver just a bit, clad in only a too-big t-shirt that’s falling off one of his shoulders (presumably Seunghyun’s) and some barely-hanging to his hips boxers (also presumably Seunghyun’s). Taking the parcel in its outstretched claw he quickly shoos the bird off and closes the window before hobbling back over to the warmth of the bed.

He’s managed to haul himself back over Seunghyun instead of simply walking around to the other side of the bed, burrowing himself back into his previous position and handing the still unread letter up to the brunette in silent request. With a quiet laugh Seunghyun takes it, though it’s not too much later that an amused snort ruffles the top of Jiyong’s hair.

“What is it?”

There’s an imitation voice, albeit an awful one, from above him.

‘Hyung, how did you survive your seventh year alone?’