the clock reads 11:30pm when you sit comfortably in changmin's arms, your back against his torso and his arms encircling your waist. his cheek rests against your shoulder as you both listen attentively to what one of your friends is saying.

changmin's not your boyfriend, he's only your best friend, but he sometimes acts like a boyfriend — which, in all honesty, doesn't bother you.

"are you thirsty?" you suddenly ask him, your fingertips mechanically tracing his.