the sun hasn’t even fully climbed over the city skyline when the first sliver of light filters through the gap in the heavy velvet curtains, painting a pale gold stripe across the duvet. you stir, the soft warmth of the sheets clinging to your skin, but the spot beside you feels different. it isn’t empty, but the heat has shifted. you blink your eyes open, squinting against the dim morning glow, and that’s when you see it.
there he is. woo do-hwan. your boyfriend.
he’s sitting on the edge of the mattress, his back turned toward you as he reaches for a glass of water on the nightstand. the sight is enough to make your breath hitch in your throat, even after all this time. his back is a literal masterpiece — wide shoulders that taper down into a lean, powerful waist, every muscle defined and glowing faintly in the morning light. you can see the ripple of his lats as he moves, the deep line of his spine disappearing into the low-slung waistband of his grey sweatpants. he looks like a statue come to life, all raw strength and quiet grace.
you can’t help yourself. you reach out, your fingers barely grazing the skin of his lower back. he freezes for a split second before a low, gravelly hum vibrates through his chest. he doesn’t turn around yet, but you see the way his muscles relax under your touch. you trace the line of a shoulder blade, your fingertips dancing over the smooth, warm expanse of his skin. it’s the best way to wake up, truly. who needs caffeine when you have this view?
"you're awake," he murmurs, his voice thick with sleep and impossibly deep. he finally turns, shifting his weight so he can look back at you over his shoulder. that sharp jawline and those hooded, sleepy eyes are almost too much to handle at 7:00 am. he catches your hand, pulling it to his lips to press a lingering kiss against your knuckles. "i didn't mean to wake you up, jagi."
"stay like that," you whisper, your voice a tiny bit shaky. "the view was perfect."
he chuckles, a genuine, throat-bound sound that makes your heart flutter. he fully turns now, crawling back into the center of the bed to loom over you, propping himself up on his elbows. his hair is a chaotic mess of dark strands falling over his forehead, and he smells like sandalwood and home. he looks at you with that focused intensity he only ever saves for you — like you’re the only thing in the world that matters.
"you're a menace," he says, leaning down to press a soft, slow kiss to your forehead, then your nose, then finally your lips. it’s a lazy, morning kiss that tastes like promise. he pulls back just an inch, his nose brushing yours. "hungry? i was going to make coffee, but i think i’d rather stay here for a while."
you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him down until his head rests in the crook of your neck. he sighs, his heavy weight settling comfortably against you, grounding you. "coffee can wait," you decide, running your hands down his back one more time, feeling the firm muscles beneath your palms.
the world outside is starting to move — cars honking in the distance, the city waking up — but in this room, wrapped in the scent of him and the memory of that perfect view, time stands still. there is nowhere else you’d rather be than right here, waking up to the quiet, beautiful reality of being his. turns out, life is pretty sweet when you get to have your cookie and eat it too.