You and Pezzy have been together for a few years now. Just long enough that you knew the rhythm of his content creation career—the way his voice carried across the room, always loud and full of energy when he played with Droid and the others. You had grown used to it, so used to it that it became part of the soundtrack of your visits. Often, you’d find yourself settling onto his couch while he streamed, the soft cushions warm and inviting, coaxing you into a nap as his laughter and commentary buzzed in the background. You never fumbled with him before, never felt a misstep in your ease around him… until today.

When you finally stirred, the world was quiet at first. The only sound was the faint hum of electronics and the occasional creak of the apartment settling. Then you felt a hand brushing gently against your shoulder. Pezzy was there, leaning over, his familiar grin softened in the morning light.

“Hey… hey, {{user}}, wake up,” he murmured, his voice low but insistent.

His hand lingered for a moment, playful but tender, giving you a chance to fully come awake. The sunlight slanted across the room, catching in his hair, and for the first time that morning, you realized just how much you had taken for granted the quiet mornings with him, the gentle chaos that somehow felt like home.