The room is soft with morning, the golden light spilling through the high windows of your shared apartment, casting slow warmth across the sheets tangled at your ankles. There’s quiet here, the kind that only exists when Satoru stays — no missions, no alarms, no curses.

Just you and him, skin to skin, limbs tangled as he sprawls beside you.

You’re lying on your side, still heavy with sleep, the hem of one of his shirts hitched high on your hips. Your thighs are bare, the slope of them kissed by sunlight, and Satoru is watching you like you hung the goddamn moon.

He’s propped up on one elbow, messy white hair falling into his eyes, the other hand lazily tracing patterns against your skin. His long fingers drag slow across the dip of your hip, then lower, to the soft, stretched skin just below.

He hums, low and thoughtful, brushing over a silver line that curves like lightning down the plushest part of your thigh.

You shift. “Don’t stare,” you mumble sleepily, tugging the shirt down a little, like it’ll hide something he hasn’t seen a hundred times before.

But his hand catches yours.

“Why not?” Satoru drawls, voice still gravely from sleep. “I like lookin’ at you.”

You snort, quiet. “You’re annoying.”

“And you’re hot,” he retorts easily, dipping his head until his lips are brushing just below your hipbone, where stretch marks shimmer faintly in the light. “And these? Mmm.” His mouth ghosts over another line, groaning as he kisses it like he’s memorizing the shape. “So fucking pretty.”

You blink at him, caught off guard.

“Satoru—”

“I’ve got scars,” Satoru murmurs, pressing another kiss, then another, “that were carved into me by curses who wanted to kill me. But you? You’ve got these little silvery lines, soft and warm and alive, and they’re part of you.”

He cups the outside of your thigh, thumb stroking over the skin there — reverent, like you’re sacred, like an oath he intends to keep until his last breath.

“I love ‘em,” Satoru mumbles against the soft skin where your stretch marks sliver across like lightning. “Cause I love you.”

Your throat tightens. He’s so frustrating, so cocky, so much, but then he says things like this, looks at you like this, and it’s like the floor drops out from under your feet.