-Hi, awesome readers! Sorry for the short chapter, but it felt like a good length this time. Let me know what you think! :)-
-DAY 5: Leave a sweet, sexy, or romantic note somewhere they will find it-
Minho never would admit what a hopeless romantic he was.
-X-X-X-
It was ATROCIOUSLY early in the morning. So early, that the sun was hardly peeking up above the horizon. The sky was stained pinkish gray and the treetops against it were stark and black. It was autumn, so the leaves were almost all gone, having fallen off long ago. It also meant it was bitterly cold in the mornings now, which only added to the overall depressing moments that were about to happen to Minho.
Sometimes, he really hated going for these runs.
"Come on...ugghh, this is taking forever...Christ, I could've made the hot chocolate myself by now." Minho was muttering all of these things to himself as he slumped groggily across the kitchen counter. He felt like hell this early, dragged down by sleep and lingering yawns. At the cheerful beep of the coffeemaker, he mumbled, "thank you!" and straightened up again.
It may not have been too apparent yet, but Minho loved his coffeemaker. He'd brought it with him when he and Newt moved in together. It was basically his second husband. It had settings to make hot chocolate, tea, and coffee, and keep it warm for a certain amount of time it was set to. It didn't beep obnoxiously loud to wake everyone up and it never broke, not once. It was sacred. Minho worshipped this thing and every hot beverage it had ever made for him.
However, the hot chocolate wasn't for him today; he was having plain, stupid water because he was a runner and yeah. Sighing, he punched in a set of numbers on the glowing coffeemaker screen. It'd keep the hot chocolate hot until about seven thirty, which was when Newt woke up to get Belle ready for school while Minho ran. After that, Minho checked to see that there was enough hot chocolate before he lifted his arms for a brief stretch. The muscles pulled satisfyingly under his blue hoodie. He'd switched to the warmer clothing and his gym shorts because of the bitingly chilly mornings they had now.
"Now, I gotta go torture myself," he yawned. He strode toward the door, scratching his head and messing up his hair even more.
He made it about two steps out the kitchen doorway when he got an idea. Pausing, he glanced around the interior of the kitchen. Spotting what he wanted, he went to the counter and grabbed a pack of sticky-notes from by the fridge. There was a cute, eggshell-blue cup there too, with pens; he took one of them too and clicked it open. Squinting up at the ceiling, he thought of what to write. "Uhhhh..." Wow, he sucked at writing.
C'mon, a nagging voice in his head piped up, he's your husband! Just say what'd you say to him in person!
"All right," Minho sighed, and bent over the counter. Making his best attempt at decent handwriting, he scribbled out:
Angel,
Thought you'd like something sweet this morning.
(But it's nowhere near as sweet as you)
See you later.
Love, Min
Minho read it once and nearly threw it out. "I'm so freakin' cheesy." Shaking his head, he ripped off the note and reached up to open a cupboard. Finding Newt's favorite Downton Abbey mug (yes, yes he had a Downton Abbey mug. He was such a fangirl for that show), he stuck the sticky-note to it.
He better love me a lot, to make me write notes like that, Minho thought. With that, he jogged out of the house.
-X-X-X-
When Minho arrived at home later on, sweaty and panting, he was surprised when the door swung open on its own in front of him. "What the shuck?" He would've said more, but then Newt was there, looking heavenly in his tight, black shirt. With no warning, he seized Minho by the neckline and hauled him inside.
"Newt, what—?" Minho stuttered as Newt slammed the door shut and backed him up against it.
Far from angelic, Newt pressed their bodies together and hummed in satisfaction. Blonde hair fell down into his eyes as he leaned in very close, nose grazing Minho's. "I just wanna show you how 'sweet' I really am," he murmured, a sinister smile flirting with his too-kissable lips.
Minho shivered, as Newt slid his hands slowly up under Minho's hoodie. He was gonna have to remember to write corny notes EVERY SINGLE DAY.
"So you got the...?"
"Yeah, Min, I got it."
