Work Text:
Kibum wakes up to the sound of gentle singing.
At first he’s confused as to what is happening – his eyes are still closed, the soft voice next to him had slowly coaxed him out of sleep. He knows it’s still night, the darkness behind his eyelids seemingly wrapping him in a nice warm blanket.
He breathes in, deep and slow and breathes out evenly, the singing next to him quietly lulling him back to sleep. It stops for a moment, quickly followed by the soft tapping of a keyboard and Kibum is now just on the right side of consciousness to begin wondering what time it is.
He has been extremely busy lately, between all the comeback schedules and drama filming, doing his graduate work plus all his other side jobs. The main thought running through Kibum’s mind during the day is reiterating his long honed belief that there just aren’t enough hours in day. Twenty-four hours seem so little when you have so many schedules to attend to in between keeping yourself healthy and upright. Kibum can’t deny that he’s happy and doing what he loves, but he also can’t deny the fact that he is thoroughly exhausted.
It takes Kibum more effort than it should, even while half-asleep, to finally peel his eyes open long enough to glance at his bedside clock. The numbers are fuzzy and blur together initially but after a couple seconds his bleary eyes just manage to make out 2:34 AM before falling shut again. His sluggish brain somehow makes enough connections to calculate that he has less than three hours to get up and get ready for a music show pre-recording. He could probably think of more things he would want to do in two hours than get out of bed if he had the energy, but the only thing coming to mind right now is how desperate he is to sleep.
He vaguely registers that he can hear the singing again, though he is not sure when it started back. It’s faint but Kibum’s pretty sure it actually is there and his tired mind isn’t just being delusional. He spends some time trying to focus on the song drifting over to him, zoning in and out.
The next thing Kibum is aware of is a slight pressure by his side, something burrowing down under his arm and something else brushing against his cheek. He comes to realise that he is still sprawled out on his stomach, cheek disappearing into his pillow and mouth hanging open, the same way he fell on his bed and passed out not enough hours ago. Kibum pries his eyes open once again only to see the alarm clock read 3:02 AM and he doesn’t know where the last half hour went, mind muddled and disoriented at best.
When the presence at his side shifts again, Kibum tries to move the hand that has apparently been draped over it without him realising. The best motion he can come up with, however, is a slight twitch of his fingers before he deems it too much effort and stops trying. Kibum imagines that if he had the energy he would probably pick up the leg that’s dangling from the bed and turn on to his side, since he likes to sleep that way. He can’t quite find it in himself to care his lack of mobility, though.
He breathes in and out shallowly and Kibum thinks his body settles more comfortably into the bed, somehow slipping more into the warmth next to him. Kibum’s mind is already mostly absent and he doesn’t recall what he was thinking about a few seconds before, all the work he has to do or how tired he is. He simply embraces the darkness as he slowly drifts off again, the warm puffs of air just barely grazing the side of his neck snatching the last of his consciousness out his grasp.