Chanyeol barely manages to drag himself to the kitchen, eyes half closed, stubbing his toe on the corner of one of their cabinets. He hops on one foot with a blueberry muffin stuffed in his mouth, crashing into a chair before resting his forehead on the cool surface of the table, groaning loudly. Kris is already up, and he’s adjusting the height of his easel, one of his gigantic canvases resting against the wall of the living room. Chanyeol peels his forehead from the tabletop and sits a little straighter, observing his friend as he worked.