Hyoseob never gets up this early on days off in Korea.
However, they're in good old Los Angeles, L.A, home of the Angels, the Lakers, and, for all Hyoseob knows, In N' Out. And of course that means they need every minute of the day they can have to explore this wonderful city.
To hell with this city, Haesol thinks.
"Hyung," Hyoseob whines, pushing at Haesol's shoulder. "Can you get up now, /please/."
Haesol is tempted to roll over and bury his face in his pillow, but that would probably only prompt Hyoseob to complain more, so he opts instead to force his eyes open to look at the younger singer hovering by his hotel bed, practically jittering with impatience. Hyoseob's blond hair sticks out every which way, and his eyes are bright despite looking slightly swollen as they always do in the morning. He grins when he meets Haesol's gaze, bobbing up and down a little.
Several utterances of "hyung" issue from Hyoseob's mouth in quick succession, followed by a laugh when Haesol squints and mutters, "What?" that makes Haesol wake up that much more.
"We can go to the Hollywood Walk of Fame today, right? And the—the Ripley place? And there's a shoe store I want to go to-"
Haesol nods as he squeezes his eyes shut again momentarily. "And you want to get a souvenir from the big fancy shop we saw and you want to buy a hat that says L.A on it and you're hungry," he mumbles. Hyoseob nods enthusiastically.
"You want to go to that place Jiho told us about, don't you."
Hyoseob all but giggles and nods again. Haesol can't help but smile at that. Sometimes even he forgets Hyoseob is 23. Bouncing around the hotel room like a kid as he dresses, he seems for all the world like a high school student on a trip for the first time, and when he turns back towards Haesol with his shirt half-on, gaze curious (probably wondering why the hell he still hasn't gotten up), Haseol can't help but think that he is the luckiest man in the world to have to deal with him.
He means it.
Running around L.A would be a pain with anyone else, but Hyoseob makes it impossible to be worn out. The light in his eyes and the mirth in his voice makes sure of that. So Haesol just adjusts his glasses on the bridge of his nose, cracks a tiny smile, and follows after the kid through the crowded streets.
Haesol calls him a kid in his mind, but really he's his partner, his closest friend, and maybe more than a friend—but not really. He still doesn't quite know what to call what they have. They love each other but don't really love each other. They're just friends but a bit more than friends. They're a paradox, and at the end of the day, when Hyoseob flops down laughing onto the bed next to him, knocking the new snapback perched on his head sideways, Haesol knows he wouldn't want it any other way.