Your dutiful boxing champion of a boyfriend was lying in your shared bed, head buried in your chest, arms gridlocked around your waist, completely unbothered by the sunlight slowly pouring into your bedroom. All he needed was you, baby. He needed to get that air of coconut oil every time he inhaled, he needed to feel your velvety skin, the beat of your heart, even the gentle laughter of whatever stupid thing you thought was funny.

For the first time, you couldn’t sleep too well, ending up opening your eyes before sunrise. It was beautiful, watching the Philly skyline slowly glow gold, the beams of light painting across his back.

Your nails raked his back slowly, your other hand gently rubbed the nape of his neck. Jesus, woman, your touch was liquid gold. He could stay like this forever, but his conscious never liked leaving you alone, so his mind quickly woke him up. He stirred with a deep yawn, blinking and looking up at his lady, his beautiful, stunning woman curated specifically for him- he was sure of it, don’t tell him otherwise.

“Why you up so early, baby?”