❄ Cold Relations ❄ [SEVENTEEN] ✓

Chapter 25: Living with Jeonghan (i.e. Laziness Level 1000)

Jeonghan could rub some people the wrong way with his laziness and abrasiveness. And that's just what he was doing by lying around the hotel, while the others broke their backs cleaning and scraping up meals.

Woozi lugged the vacuum into the lobby and sighed at the sight of Jeonghan resting on the couch. "Don't you do anything but sleep?"

Jeonghan didn't bother opening his eyes. "Don't you do anything but clean and complain?"

"If I had some help, I'd be done by now."

"That's good to know—but I don't remember asking for your life story. Clean and get out, so I can rest."

Woozi was very fortunate when the sound of the vacuum drowned out the next words to come out of his mouth. Ten minutes passed, and the floor was done, but he still had to dust off the furniture. Woozi poked Jeonghan with the bristly attachment. "Get up."

Jeonghan tapped Woozi on the nose and turned over on the couch so that his back was facing him; Jihoon recoiled like he'd been struck.

"Just what do you think you're doing?"

"Hitting the snooze button—gimme five."

"I'll give you five seconds to get up. After that, your ponytail is the first thing I clean." One-one-thousand, two-one-thousand, three—

"You wouldn't dare," Jeonghan sneered.

"Oh, yeah?" Four-one-thousand, five-one-thousand. "You're time's up." Woozi turned on the vacuum cleaner and hovered the nozzle over Jeonghan's shoulder blades. At the first notion of his hair entering the suction, Yoon jumped up, wide-eyed, speechless, and nearly out of breath.

Jihoon smirked. "I warned you."

Jeonghan loosened the two red bands and let his hair spill onto his shoulders; his expression was bitter. "I think you made a mistake today, Woozi."

"Oh?"

"It's not wise to upset me."

Jihoon shrugged. "Maybe not. But I think you need to remember something: I'm the vocal team leader, and you're a vocalist. I've been around you a long time. I know you better than you know yourself. So don't think I'm worried about your empty threats."

"Fair enough," Jeonghan said, after a bit. There were two paintings on the wall that caught his interest as he moved around the room, while Woozi finished up. They both depicted natural scenes: mountains shrouded in fog and waterlilies floating across the surface of a pond under a vast waterfall. Just as the noise ceased, Hoshi and Joshua came up from the kitchen. Jeonghan was somewhat surprised.

"'Shua, when did you get up?"

"About an hour ago. Why?"

Jeonghan grabbed his friend's arm—it was no longer clammy or pale. "I thought you were sick."

"No, just worn out. When I woke up, I was feeling a lot better." Joshua's stomach growled, and all of them laughed. "I guess I'm ready for dinner."

"That reminds me"—Jeonghan's judgement spared no one—"who's the cook around here?"

Hoshi volunteered an answer: "I am."

Jeonghan didn't give him the time of day. "Very funny, but seriously—"

"It's me," Hoshi persisted. "What's so funny about that?"

"Since when can you cook? You've been branded the useless member of the group when it comes to anything and everything because of your surefire ability to screw up the simplest tasks. Yet, now, by some miracle, you're telling me you've developed cooking skills?"