being lonely | minsung | ✔

37

The next morning, I wake up way too early, much to my dismay. The bedroom is already dimly lit by soft and reluctant sunrays that filter through the white curtains. That's how I spend the first hours of the day; staring up at the ceiling while the sunlight peeking in gradually grows in strength.

With a small sigh, I roll on my side, facing the figure of Minho who seems to be sleeping soundly. Even though his back is facing me, I can clearly see his chest rising and falling peacefully and I wish I could've been that relaxed. But then again, how does one relax after losing their family?

It sucks. I feel terrible and exhausted, both physically and mentally. The night I needed sleep the most, I hardly slept at all.

The temptation of calling in sick today is calling, but I remind myself that I'll probably go crazy if I sit here on my own all day long, left alone with my thoughts that aren't too bright and sunny at this moment. No, that's not what I want.

Rolling over again so that I'm facing up again, I continue my staring contest with the ceiling. I soon close my eyes in an attempt to block out the annoying sunlight that still seems to gather strength with every minute that passes.

And then, after what feels like hours, Minho's alarm finally comes to life with a loud shriek that fills the room. The other sits up straight within a split second, staring ahead of him with wide eyes before he relaxes and deactivates the screeching sound. 

"Someone is jumpy in the mornings," I dryly remark and Minho turns around, surprise making its way back to his face before the realization hits him and he gives me a sleepy smile.

It's a sight to be seen, honestly. The older's eyes, heavy-lidded with drowsiness, that look at me with those everlasting sparkles in them, his chapped lips parted in the sweetest smile and his black hair poking in every direction.

"Hey Ji, you look terrible," he greets me, stretching his arms with a massive yawn, not even bothering to cover his mouth.

"Thank you, handsome boy," I sarcastically reply, fighting the urge to roll my eyes. "At least my looks resemble how I feel, then."

Minho's smile saddens a little and he gently places a hand on my shoulder.

"I hope you feel at least a little bit better."

My frown quickly turns into a small smile, one that hopefully shows the gratefulness I feel towards the other because really, he does a lot for me and it means the world to me.

"I do, thanks to you. I wasn't lying when I accidentally said that you make everything better."

Minho grins at the memory, enjoying my embarrassment as much as always. With mischief sparkling in his eyes, he looks at me. "Look who's flirting now, huh?" he jokes.

"I'm not flirting, idiot," I jokingly scoff, landing a light punch on the other's shoulder. "I'm being sincere for once, appreciate it please."

"I'm glad I can be that person for you, most people see me as an idiot that does nothing else besides cracking jokes and causing trouble. You don't know how often I've heard the word shallow, solely directed at me."

The older shrugs it off as I give him a concerned look. "I used to struggle with it a lot but I soon realized that I created that image myself. Now I don't really care anymore, it keeps fake people at a distance and only the ones that really care try to get closer to see the real me."

 "I'm glad I did, you are so much more than that," I mutter, looking down at my legs covered with blankets. "You are a jokester but I like that about you. And you definitely aren't shallow."