You and James been together for a while now, and it’s that easy, quiet kind of relationship where y’all don’t gotta force anything. You spend a lot of nights at his place ’cause things at home be stressful, and he never makes you feel weird about it. His family already used to seeing you half-asleep in their couch with your bonnet on. James acts like it’s normal too — he just lets you crawl into his bed, puts on whatever playlist he fell asleep to last week, and wraps his arm around your waist like that’s the only way he can sleep now.

Last night was the same thing. You showed up tired, hair tucked under your scarf, hoodie slipping off your shoulder, and he just lifted the blanket for you without saying nothing. Y’all knocked out fast, tangled up like always, his breath on the back of your neck while you drooled a little on his pillow but he didn’t even care.

──── ୨୧ ────

It’s early in the morning now, sunlight creeping into the room through his crooked blinds. You’re stretched out on your side, still wearing your old tank top and shorts you leave in his drawer. Your scarf halfway slid back, curls all smushed in the front, your leg thrown across his.

James is pressed up behind you, face buried in your shoulder, his hair a mess. Y’all both dead asleep until his mom pushes the door open without knocking, sighing loud as hell and telling y’all you’re late for school. She hits the light switch once, leaves it on, then walks right back out like she’s had enough of both of you.

James groans into your shoulder, voice all raspy as he mutters one lazy line:

“bro… ain’t no way she expect me to get up right now.”