early morning philosophies
dalmatian, donglim-centric, g, 762w
In theory, Donglim could get a lot done today. From the safety of his bunk, he counted the possibilities on his fingers: four hours of dance practice, rap lessons, vocal lessons, lunch, laundry, composing with Daniel, there was a show on at eight that he'd like to see, dinner, he really should check the fansites, maybe he could update his twitter bio for the third time that week. The possibilities swam around his sleep-dazed head and made him dizzy. Making a decision was so hard; yawning was simple and rewarding in comparison.
So he yawned, and went over his to-do list. And then he yawned again.
"You okay?" someone shouted from the kitchen. The voice was too distorted by the blanket over his head to decipher.
"Yes!" he called back, because heaven forbid he remain silent. He'd tried that yesterday, and earned himself three over-sized males on top of him in his already tiny bunk bed. No, today was going to be peaceful. He thought he heard grumbling, but no one entered the room.
He checked his cell phone-- 1PM on the dot. He groaned and rubbed at his eyes in frustration. His brained screamed at him to move, but his limbs felt heavy and numb. Just the thought of working himself into a sitting position made him exhausted, made him want to pull his covers back over his face and close his eyes.
At four that morning, Intae had been the first to roll out of his bed. He'd bounced on the balls of his feet a few times to force himself awake, then staggered from the room to head to the gym. Donglim hadn't seen it; he'd heard it. He'd gotten into the routine of listening to his friends' morning routines, memorizing them.
Thirty-five minutes later, David's phone went off. It was a rap song in English which Donglim didn't understand, but he knew the sounds well. David let his alarm ring three separate times, five minutes apart every time he hit snooze. Then, finally, he planted his feet on the ground and groaned with his head so low it almost hung between his knees. It took David another five minutes to fight into a standing position, and then he was gone. He would join Intae at the gym after chugging half their carton of orange juice. Donglim knew because he and Daniel made convenience store runs every two days to buy a new carton when they ran out.
Jisu liked to wake up as loudly as possible. He'd yawn, groan, stretch, groan again, all before every opening his eyes. Sitting up in bed was accompanied by another set of yawns and grumbles, and standing up was a regular symphony of strange, tired sounds. As soon as his eyes were open and he was on his feet, he'd wander to the far corner of his room and search for a sweatshirt. He'd hum to himself the entire way, the volume increasing and the melody taking shape as he moved himself into consciousness. By the time he left the bedroom, he was singing out loud.
When Dari was still living with them, he'd be the next to wake up. He had his own noisy way of doing so, which started a few minutes into Jisu's musical routine. He'd curse quietly into his pillow and flop over. The pillow would move to cover his ears, and when that proved not to be enough, he'd toss it in the direction of Jisu's voice. Unfortunately for him, by the time he'd reached this point, Jisu was already out of the room. As soon as the room fell quiet once again, he'd sigh and get out of bed, already awake.
Daniel was the last one to rise before Donglim, which was always the source of endless jokes about who really was the youngest of the group. Daniel's morning, by comparison, was uneventful. He would sleep soundly as the others rose around him, but as soon as his alarm went off, he hand would fly to his phone to turn it off, and he was completely awake. Some days were a little slower than others, but in general, Daniel never had a problem waking up.
And then there was Donglim, who could simply never muster the energy until he was alone in the room and telling himself repeatedly that, really, he ought to get up soon.
Five more minutes, he said to himself. He took and deep breath and rolled over for the hundredth time since waking up.
Something smashed in the direction of the kitchen.
by the phone
dalmatian, dari/jisu, pg, 334w
The weekends are the hardest, Dari thinks, to adjust to.
For such a long time he'd had no concept of weekend, just one constant stream of activity that made not only the days but the weeks flow one into another. When it all had to suddenly come to a stop, he found himself yanked backward into a new way of viewing time. Everything which once carried him along through time now passed him by, with him standing somewhere on the shore watching quietly.
He likes the sleep, though. He smiles to himself and yawns, relishing the feeling of the clock ticking past noon with no consequence for him. Sure, he has things to do, but they're all planned for later in the day. Right now, there's nothing but peace.
Something keeps him from drifting back off to sleep, though. There's something he's forgetting; there's a reason he kept this morning free. As much as he'd like to go back to sleep and put it out of his mind, he knows he can't. There's very little these days to nag at him to this extent. He wants to know what he's forgetting.
The phones rings and he almost laughs out loud. Of course, he chides himself and leaves the bed with a new bounce in his step. Dari may have all the time in the world, but that's not true for everyone, after all.
"'Yo, man," he greets casually, like he doesn't have the most excited of grins on his face. No, there are some people who are only available on certain days at very specific times.
The voice on the other ends chuckles, husky and grating like he's just woken up. "'Sup," Jisu half sighs, half mumbles. "It's nice not having to pick up at three in the morning, huh?"
Dari shrugs to himself. Doesn't matter, he wants to say, because he's always waiting, but instead he puts on his best grouchy voice and grumbles, "Shit yeah."
Jisu laughs. It's worth it every time.