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“Couldn’t sleep over there,” Seungmin explains, turning onto his side to look at Changbin. Without the day’s makeup, he looks so sweet and soft. No sharp angles; just gentle curves. “I knew you wouldn’t mind it.”
Changbin frowns. “What if I do mind it? You’re never awake by the time I get home to ask me how I feel.”
“If you minded, you would have woken me up and kicked me out a long time ago.” Seungmin is confident in this. He has every right to be. He’s correct. “But you haven’t. You let me do this every time.”
Changbin sighs. It’s not hard to see right through him; much easier, even, for someone like Seungmin, who notices things about others almost as much as he does. Changbin carries his fondness like an open book, with inside jokes and nagging remarks doodled into the margins of the pages. “Yeah.”
—
seungmin once said he sleeps better in changbin"s bed because it smells like him. changbin maybe doesn"t realize the cure to his own insomnia is sleeping next to seungmin.
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