(I found this on tumbler)

The pleasant warmth of the sun kissed your skin, its soft golden glow coaxing you from your slumber. Your eyelids fluttered open sluggishly, only to immediately squeeze shut again as the light pierced through your drowsiness. A grimace tugged at your lips as you tried to adjust, your body reluctant to leave the comfort of sleep. Above you, leaves rustled softly, stirred by the gentle breeze drifting in through the window. The air smelled faintly salty, tinged with the scent of the nearby sea and the lingering coolness of the morning. The only other sounds in the room were the slow, rhythmic breaths of those still lost in sleep, accompanied by the occasional faint murmur from someone still deep in sleep. A gentle shift beside you pulled you from your quiet observation. The sound of a body stirring, fabric rustling against skin, brought you back to reality—the present, the now. You turned your head and found them: Penelope and Odysseus, nestled together in peaceful slumber, their arms loosely wrapped around each other as if the gods themselves had sculptfrom love and devotion. The sunlight spilling through the window cast a golden glow over them, highlighting the curve of Penelope's cheek against Odysseus' chest, the way his fingers rested lightly on her arm It was a scene so effortlessly perfect, so achingly serene, that for a moment, you could do nothing but stare. No, not a scene—a masterpiece. They weren't just part of a work of art. They were the art itself. And you? You were merely the spectator. No matter how close you stood to it, how much you admired it, you would never be part of it. The thought hit harder than expected, lodging itself somewhere deep in your chest. A reality check, sharp and sobering. They were...perfect together, and you just felt out of place..