menace | min yoongi : suga

six

sasha's pov

I woke up, wrapped in a warm and snuggly duvet, in a still room. I opened my eyes. I was lying in my own bedroom, and it was warm and sunny outside. I was wearing my dressing gown over my clothes from yesterday.

Actually, what day is it today?

I turned to my side, and saw that Namjoon lay peacefully on the opposite side, wearing a vest and fresh bandage with a sling on is arm as he slept upright.

I quietly climbed out of the large double bed, and tip toed down the corridor. I walked into the first guest room, tapping the door open slightly.

Inside, two boys were also top-tailing. A ball of mint green hair was curled up on one end, and Jimin, with his fiery red hair, was sat up and awake, scrolling through his phone.

"Morning sunshine." I muttered quietly and yawned.

He looked up from his phone and grinned. "Hey." He stretched his arms, revealing that he was actually not wearing a shirt.

"Why the hell are you topless?"

"Why the hell aren't you topless?" He shrugged.

"Please tell me that you guys didn't .." I looked between them, ".. get it on."

Jimin looked horrified. "Sasha! I am as straight as a ruler."

"Yeah, the pink glittery flexible one that Jin gave you." I rolled my eyes.

"We promised not to speak of that." He narrowed his eyes.

"It wasn't a pinky promise." I scoffed. "What day is it?"

"The day after yesterday."

I glared at him.

"You've been asleep for fourteen hours. It's 8am." He picked his phone back up.

I nodded and left the room, going to see who was in the next one.

I tapped on the door, and peeked in to see Jin lay in a starfish position on the double bed, with Jungkook squeezed into the corner. Both snored loudly.

In the last room, Hoseok and Tae had a single bed each to themselves.

With everyone sleeping, my house seemed even quieter than I last remembered.

I walked back into my own room and pulled out my favourite shirt- a black t-shirt with little lace details. Unfortunately it had shrunk in the wash over time so was a little bit tight. I then pulled out a pair of white boxer shorts.

I took them into the bathroom with me and changed out of my old clothes. I cleaned up my face a little bit, then went back outside. I walked downstairs to the weirdly quiet kitchen.

I checked the fridge, which was stocked full with fresh ingredients; the boys must have filled it up. I pulled out a carton of milk, eggs and some other small ingredients. I then prepared a frying pan and container. I then put all of the ingredients into the container, whisked it up and poured it onto the sizzling pan.

Since it was their favourite, I thought that a fresh batch of pancakes would be the best way to apologise for my bitchiness without actually saying anything. If there was one thing about me, I hated the feeling of defeat whenever I apologised to anyone.