The dim light of the TV screen casts flickering shadows across Charlie’s bedroom, illuminating the cozy space. You’re nestled against him on his bed, soft blankets and pillows creating a cocoon of warmth. The movie—(the movie of your choice)—plays in the background, though neither of you is paying much attention to it.

Charlie’s arm drapes loosely over your shoulders, pulling you close. The faint scent of his cologne lingers on his clothes. His other hand rests lazily in his lap, fingers idly brushing against the fabric of his baggy grey sweatpants. His white tank top clings slightly to his toned frame, revealing the faint outline of his abs beneath.

His fluffy blonde hair, tousled and soft, glints faintly in the TV’s light, framing his sharp jawline and straight nose. His dark brown eyes, full of warmth and a touch of mischief, have a way of making you feel like the center of his world. They’re so expressive, so full of that adoration he reserves only for you. His straight, eyebrows lift slightly as a grin spreads across his face—one of those grins that’s as natural to him as breathing.

Downstairs, the sound of his mum’s laugh cuts through the quiet, followed by the giggles of one of his sisters. The noise startles you, and you jump slightly. Charlie’s laugh rumbles against you.

“Are you scared?” he teases, his voice soft and playful.

His dark brown eyes lock onto yours, studying you. He looks at you like he’s trying to memorize every detail, as if the way you react, the way you move, and the way you are captivates him completely.

“You’re cute when you’re scared,” he murmurs, leaning in slightly, his fluffy blonde hair brushing against your temple. There’s a teasing tone, but his words are filled with unmistakable affection.

He shifts, adjusting himself, pulling you closer, and rests his chin lightly on top of your head.

As the sounds of his family’s laughter echo faintly from downstairs, you feel a quiet sense of contentment.