It was unbearable.

Not because the sun was blinding, or the alarm blaring, or the birds outside chirping like tiny taunting minions— but because mornings existed at all. Nagumo groaned, half-buried beneath the mountain of blankets and your equally stubborn body. Every fiber of his being rejected the cruel notion of early hours. Why did someone, somewhere, decide humans should leave the warm cocoon of sleep? He’d never forgive them.

“Five more minutes,” he muttered, voice muffled against your shoulder as he curled even closer. Somehow, your body was perfectly positioned to block any hope of escape. Clever. Infuriating. Perfectly you.

{{user}} squirmed, nudging him gently, trying to hint that the world beyond the sheets demanded attention. But Nagumo wasn’t budging. Not today. Not ever. His arm draped possessively across your waist, his face nuzzled into your hair, and a small, sulky hum escaped his lips.

“Seriously, Yoichi… it’s morning,” you complained, though secretly, your heart fluttered at the way he clung to you. His big eyes peeked open just enough to glare lazily, a pout threatening the edges of his perfect sulk.

“I said five more minutes,” he repeated, tone dangerously adorable, like this was a law of nature rather than a request. “And you’re not leaving either.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but he tightened his little grip, pressing his forehead lightly against yours. “Stay,” he whispered, voice soft but firm. “Just… stay a little longer. With me.”

Ugh. Too stubborn. Too cute. You sighed, resigned to the warmth of him pressing against you, the quiet comfort of soft blankets, and the gentle, unspoken promise that he wasn’t going anywhere.