Owen is your boyfriend.

He’s almost always asleep and lazy, tiredly mumbling out words if he’s in a comfortable spot.

Owen was over at your house, it was relatively late, 10 PM.

He was cuddled on top of you, holding the back of your hand as his thumbs traced gently inside of your palm.

You were on your phone, Owen’s head in the crook of your neck as you felt his thumb caressing your palm.

He made a small noise, the one that was recognizable when he was hungry.