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WAKES UP NEXT TO ME: Xiao It was a soft, whimsical noise, as if melodies escaped him even in slumber. He was snoring. Three days, four hours, and twenty six minutes ago, he'd exclaimed in a tizzy that he 'absolutely did not snore.' He had never been a good liar, of course. Thin, cold fingertips grazed against the upper part of my shoulder in what felt like a lazy scramble to gain purchase of the blankets. I had half a mind to tell him all he needed to do was ask, yet my lips stayed sealed. Pursed. He would fall asleep again in due time. LATE NIGHT SNACKS: Gyujin "I don't want leftover pizza again." It's more of a whine than a firm refusal as the words leave me, but I mean them nonetheless. Gyujin's head barely tips my way as he runs his fingers over the curve of his jaw. "Then we will starve. We have nothing to eat here." Exasperation jitters deep within my bones and I grab for his hand, not bothering to give him much of a choice on the matter. Starving was unacceptable; so was cold pizza. He would learn to thank me later. SHARES A ROOM WITH ME: Gyujin A pigsty. That is the way it looks. Every night. "You'd think you would get tired of me nagging you," I scold, lighthearted, the tiniest of smiles formed on my face. Piles of socks and dirty sleepwear are gathered within my arms and there is not a single thing in his. Typical. "Plus, if you helped me, this would get done quicker. Honestly, you're about as bad as--" "Don't you dare finish that sentence." He takes a single pair of pajamas that threatened to topple from dangling off my shoulder and tosses them into the bin. It's a start. ENDS UP CUDDLING WITH ME: Wei Living near constantly with ten boys takes the life ( and the patience ) right out of you. Most nights are late nights with shouts of lost rock - paper - scissor games in order to determine the order of showers. Youngest to oldest was a long forgotten concept and none of the boys were willing to budge when it came to visual appeal. My head is throbbing by the time the second to last group disappears in the thick steam flooding from the bathroom entrance. All I wish for is a nap. It seems I never get that luxury these days. "-- saving the best for the last, actually." The familiar voice brings my attention to Wei, who's still half turned with a less than pleased glare back at his younger bandmates. He mumbles something about getting to have a longer shower before sliding down into a lump next to me. Out of us two, there is no competition; he looks miserable. I open my mouth to gripe about his odor but his arms connect, loop around my neck, and tighten as if he knew my intentions were to get him away. He's all sweaty and it is equal parts disgusting and honorable. You couldn't find a harder worker just anywhere. "I'll allow it, but only just this once." I can feel his fingers curl in the slightest as he ducks his head to rest against my chest, his temple to my heart. There's no need to look down, for I can feel his cheeks tighten. He's smiling now. I give him ten minutes until he's passed out cold. HOOK UP WITH: Wooshin His fingers curl tighter in my hair and I can see him visibly contemplating his next move. Our game of chicken has never, ever, gotten this far. Then again, it's not necessarily chicken when there isn't an audience of sorts. I refuse to call it flirting. Whatever this is, I know that it is not F A I R. He is not fair. He's left me against a rock and a hard place, the latter being quite literal. I'm cornered. His knee is inches from pressing into the part of my thighs yet his eyes are trained on my lips. Slowly, my hand smooths it's way along his side, his lower chest, snaking my finger around the top button to tug it free. No reaction from his part. Plan B. My teeth grip the ridge of my bottom lip and within seconds I can hear his throat itch with un-uttered noises. His focus is impenetrable. A moment of weakness on my part. I whisper a quiet, "Wooshin." He replies with a throaty cough and a shake of his head, "No more. You'll be saying that name enough later." MOVIE NIGHT BUDDY: Xiao Two glasses of cola and a bowl full of popcorn are set out on the coffee table. I can't remember the last time we had the luxury of a rest day. In reality, we do get plenty of rest, just not enough to run and pick up a movie. These nights are special nights. Xiao's hair is pulled up, tucked comfortably within the stitching of a handmade beanie I gifted him two Christmases ago. I can remember the look on his face after I, at first, suggested a haircut. Option B was to, at least, wear a hat when it got embarrassing for public travel. "I hope you like racing films," he pauses his readjustment of the couch blankets long enough to flash me a handsome grin. How could anyone pick a fight with him when he looked so sweet? "Not at all. But, I can suffer for you. That is, if you let me have all the red skittles." He's never been a good liar OR a good sneak. 'SOME' RELATIONSHIP: Bitto He was fast asleep, flat against the dance studio floor, again. It had to of been the third time that month, at least. My socks slip against the slick, patched floorboards, taking me closer to Bitto. His hat is barely held on by now; he must have been tossing in his sleep. The back strap that hugs his head is pressed against the floor and his head, the only form of support keeping the accessory atop his head. "You're ridiculous." It's hushed, indirect, non-truthful. He worked hard and that was all that mattered at the end of the day. "This can't be comfortable for you." Who was I talking to? Soft murmurs from his dream sedated sleep caught my attention. Leaning down to kneel beside him, I hover my thumb against his cheek. He looks so peaceful. Caught up in my own land, I hardly realize until it's too late - his hand wraps around my wrist. Soft and warm sleep kissed lips press against my fingertips. One by one. "Lay with me, then." I oblige without a second thought. PILLOW TALK PARTNER: Sunyoul ( I may come back to this later. ) OFTEN WEARING HIS CLOTHES: Wei "I can't find my sweater anywhere." I can hear it like a blaring alarm system thinking back on it, yet in my day-dream like state, I did not think to rid myself of the evidence. It's an old, stretched out blue and grey hoodie. To be fair, when I combed the laundry and slipped it on, I did not think the other boy would bother looking for it. Did I know it belonged to him? Sure. Did that stop me? Not at all. Heavy footsteps catch my ears and it's a tad too late for my panic to kick in. I've half an arm tugged out of the too long sleeves when they stop altogether. The fabric is bunched up around my neck as I look up at him, startled, deer-like. His expression takes all of two seconds to go from curious to accusatory. I hold up a finger not hidden by the sweater fabric. "You've got nice manners, for a liar and a thief." I hate that he memorized Desolation of Smaug, but at least he leaves me in peace with HIS sweater half on.