his mornings are plagued by the transformation of quiet (the tranquil bustle of a household waking up with the day) into absolute chaos (it’s yelling and kicking, a struggle--a fight).
the source of jisoo’s aches and injuries so early in the hour? the lump currently curled under the covers, sleeping soundly----but not for long.
jisoo’s already let himself into the room, steps muffled by the thick, expensive carpet, as he sets taehyung’s still warm, freshly pressed outfit onto the hook outside of his ornately decorated closet door. pouring out a mug of tea from the pot he’d had shoved into his hands by someone in the kitchens, he sets it onto the nightstand by the young master’s bed.
a resigned sigh, he smooths his combed back hair one more time before grabbing the side of each curtain with his hand. jisoo revels in a few more heartbeats of blissful, peaceful, silence, but then---
“good morning, doryeonnim!”
with a sharp pivot of his heel, he heads towards the bed, where there’s more movement than before. he braces himself for the resistance, and starts tugging at the blanket, one hand alternating out in front of the other, leaning back with his weight to give his movement some added strength. there’s a pool of blanket starting to form at his feet, and jisoo continues to speak--loudly.
“it’s time to wake up! your parents expect you downstairs for breakfast in forty-five minutes! ...please stop kicking!”
@3012v