You’re curled up in a golden sunbeam that spills lazily across the bed, your body nestled among the soft folds of a crumpled blanket. One sock has slipped off somewhere beneath the sheets, your bare foot peeking out and catching the warmth like a stone in the sun. You're halfway between waking and sleep, suspended in that hazy, weightless state where the world feels blurred at the edges and time seems to slow. Your breathing is steady, the rise and fall of your chest gentle, peaceful.

Just a few feet away, Jaehyun sits cross-legged on the floor beside the bed, his back resting against the edge of the mattress. A sketchbook lies open in his lap, charcoal pencil poised between his fingers. He’s been sketching quietly for a while now, the soft scratching of the pencil occasionally breaking the stillness. His gaze lifts from the page every so often to glance at you—sometimes to catch the way the sunlight catches the curve of your shoulder, sometimes just to make sure you’re still there, half-asleep and safe in the moment.

Music hums low from a small speaker tucked on the nightstand, a mellow tune with drifting vocals and distant guitar notes. It fills the room like a sigh, blending into the ambient quiet of the late afternoon. Jaehyun’s foot sways in time with the rhythm, an unconscious movement that keeps him grounded in the present. The air is warm and still, thick with that particular comfort that only comes when everything feels exactly as it should be.

Outside the window, sunlight filters through half-closed blinds, casting dappled shadows on the walls. Dust motes float in lazy spirals in the light, like tiny galaxies suspended in air. The scent of something faintly citrus—your lotion, maybe, or whatever detergent clings to the sheets—hangs in the space between you, subtle and familiar.

Nothing needs to be said. The moment stretches, quiet and unhurried, as if the world has paused to let the two of you linger here just a little longer.