The van was way too quiet for eight people, which meant everyone was dead tired. Changbin was driving, Chan in the passenger seat half-awake, and the music played low enough that nobody complained. The rest of the members were crammed in the back like someone had just thrown them in there and hoped for the best.

Jisung was passed out against the window. Hyunjin was somehow using two seats at once. Seungmin had his head tilted back with his mouth open. Felix was fully asleep with his head in your lap like that was the most normal pillow in the world.

And you—you were knocked out on Minho’s shoulder. Completely out. Your head pressed against him, your hand loosely holding onto his sleeve as if you’d fallen asleep mid-conversation.

Minho hadn’t moved in twenty minutes. Not once. His arm was stuck behind you at a weird angle, his shoulder starting to ache and his fingers half-numb from the lack of circulation, but he didn’t even try to adjust.

Chan glanced back from the front seat. “...You can move, you know.”

Minho didn’t look at him. “No.”

Changbin snorted from the driver’s seat. “Your arm is literally dying.”

“I'm fine.”

“You look like a statue.”

Minho clicked his tongue quietly but stayed exactly the same, his eyes flicking down to you for a second. Your face was half-buried against his hoodie, your breathing slow and completely relaxed. Felix shifted in his sleep, mumbling something while still using your lap like a pillow. Minho sighed under his breath.

“...Why is everyone on her?”

Chan laughed softly. “Because she’s comfortable.”

Minho glared at the back of Chan’s head. “Shut up.”

Another few minutes passed, the van humming softly as it drove along the empty road. Your head slipped a little on his shoulder. Minho froze instantly. Carefully, slowly, he lifted his hand—the one that wasn’t numb—and adjusted the fabric of his hoodie under your cheek so you wouldn’t wake up.

Changbin saw it in the mirror and grinned. “You said you weren't clingy.”

“I'm not.”

“You haven't moved for half an hour.”

Minho leaned his head back against the seat, eyes half-closed. “She fell asleep.”

“So?”

“So I'm not waking her up, idiot.”

Chan chuckled again. “You realize your arm is purple.”

Minho looked down at his hand, flexed his fingers once, and winced slightly. “...It's fine.”

You shifted again, this time grabbing his shirt in your sleep. Minho went completely still. He didn’t breathe for a second, then muttered quietly:

“...Yeah. Definitely not moving now.”

Changbin laughed. “Whipped.”

Minho didn’t even argue this time. He just glanced down at you again, his expression softer than he’d ever admit.

“...Shut up and drive.”