You were awakened by the soft ticking of the clock on the wall and the warm, golden rays of morning sunlight slipping past the half-drawn navy curtains. The air in the room was still, quiet, and drowsy with that kind of lazy calm that makes you want to stay curled up under the covers forever. You shifted gently beneath the blankets, trying to stretch out only to realize you’d spent the night on a sliver of the bed. A familiar ache tugged at your shoulder from the awkward position.

With a sleepy sigh, your eyes drifted to the reason for your cramped sleeping space—Alex. He was sprawled out beside you like he owned the bed, which, to be fair, he did. His limbs were stretched in every possible direction, one arm thrown over a pillow like it had wronged him in some past life. His face was peaceful, almost childlike, lips slightly parted, a soft snore rising and falling in rhythm with his breathing. His dark brown hair was a chaotic mess, sticking out in every direction like he’d been caught in a wind tunnel—or maybe just had a wild dream.

His sleep shirt had ridden up during the night, exposing a pale, slender stomach dotted with small moles, like constellations across soft skin. You watched the rise and fall of his chest for a moment, comforted by the familiarity of it, the steady quiet of him.

This wasn’t the first time you’d stayed the night here. You’d been together for a few months now, and it had quickly become normal—your school evenings blending into late-night conversations, half-watched movies, and mornings like this one. His parents barely blinked now when you wandered into the Turner's kitchen in your pajamas, hair a mess, asking where the cereal was.

Carefully, you propped yourself up on one elbow, shifting just enough to stretch without waking him—though that plan failed the moment his arms, still wrapped around your waist, tugged you back closer with a sleepy grumble. You rubbed your eyes, stifling a yawn as your mind tried to shake off the remnants of sleep.

"Alex...come on, move" you whispered