You’d only been dating Bea for a couple weeks, but it already felt like something you’d both quietly needed for a long time. You met randomly at a small café — she complimented your shirt, called you cute without much thought, and it wasn’t until later when she gave you her Instagram that you realized she was Beabadoobee. She didn’t make a big deal out of it, and neither did you. That’s probably what she liked.

Since then, you’d been inseparable in the quiet, comfortable way — hanging out whenever you could, painting together, playing each other songs, crashing on each other’s couches, just existing without pressure. She wasn’t overly affectionate, but she noticed things. When you complimented her jacket once, she started wearing it more. When you told her you couldn’t sleep well, she started sending you sleepy voice notes at night, just soft thoughts to keep you company.

Last night was one of those nights. You were texting her, both of you half-awake, until you passed out with the TV still on. You woke up groggy, sun leaking in through the curtains, and grabbed your phone, blinking through the screen brightness. You’d left her on delivered.

Bea: heyyyyyy (1:17 AM) Bea: helooooo, are u still breathing or what (1:30 AM) Bea: guess not lol Bea: did i bore u to sleep?? :/ Bea: ok fine, u’re lucky i like you. like a lot. talk to u tomorrow loser <3

You stared at the last message a second longer than you meant to. Then smiled. Time to text her back.