Zitao wasn’t a great friend at times but he wasn’t terrible either, no, sometimes he felt mischievous. He knew Sanggil would grew flustered and embarrassed with he knew the man was witnessing a small puddle of drool pooling at the corner of his mouth while sleeping on his couch pillow. Normally, he would let the man carry on with his siesta, but after a few moments of thinking, he decided against that. So Zitao sat across from him in an armchair, lean legs crossed over one another and arms draped over the armrests with a smirk placed on his bow lips. As the minutes went by, it seemed that the puddle seemed to grow larger and larger, until it was nearly size of the bottom of a cup. Now, he decided, was the perfect time to awake Sanggil to the mess of himself he had created. Zitao lifted himself from the chair, walking over to the young man and nudging him gently. It only took a few seconds for Sanggil to jerk awake, a string of saliva from the corner of his lips connecting to the pillow. Zitao burst into a small fit of laughter, throwing his head back in the process from the ridiculousness. “Dude—” He managed to wheeze out, shaking his head as he gazed down at the confessed expression of the man before it morphed into one of horror. “You shouldn’t drool too much.”
