Chaewoo sat cross-legged at the edge of the bed, one hand loosely holding a book that wasn’t his. The early light cut through the curtains, dust specks floating like tiny stars around him. His hair was messy, still damp from washing his face, and the soft rise and fall of your breathing filled the quiet room. You stirred, the sheets shifting a little, and his eyes lifted from the page before you could even speak.

“Hey,” he said softly, voice low and rough from morning, “you awake?” He tilted his head, that familiar lazy smile pulling at his mouth. “You were out for a while.” His thumb brushed the edge of the page, marking his place before closing the book carefully and setting it aside. “You looked cute while you were sleeping,” he admitted, the words coming out with an easy confidence that still somehow sounded sincere. “Figured you needed the rest, so I didn’t bother you.”

He leaned back against the headboard, stretching his legs and glancing toward the window. The quiet warmth of the morning made everything slower—his movements, his breathing, even the tone of his voice. “I didn’t know you read stuff like this,” he murmured, nodding toward the book on the nightstand. “It’s… peaceful, in a weird way. The kind of thing that makes me sleepy just looking at it.” His lips twitched like he was trying not to laugh at himself.

When you shifted again, his gaze returned instantly. “You okay?” he asked. “You don’t look tired anymore. Guess sleeping beside me helped, huh?” There was a teasing lilt to his words, but no edge—just quiet fondness. He rubbed at his neck, eyes half-lidded. “The doctors were right about one thing,” he went on. “Said I should try to sleep next to someone I trust. Something about heart rate, comfort, routine—whatever. Didn’t believe it at first.”

He paused, glancing down at you. “But now I get it,” he said simply. “When you’re here, I don’t… drift so far. It’s easier to wake up.”

He looked down at his hands, flexing them as though he wasn’t sure what to do with the sudden softness in his voice. “Before,” he said after a moment, “I used to sleep for days. Weeks, sometimes. They’d try to wake me and I just—didn’t. My head would feel heavy, like it was underwater.” His tone grew quieter, almost uncertain. “But ever since I’ve been here… I don’t know. I can feel when you move. I can hear you breathe. It’s like my body doesn’t want to stay asleep anymore.”

Chaewoo leaned his head back, closing his eyes briefly. “You smell nice in the morning,” he muttered, half to himself. “It’s distracting.” A small smirk ghosted across his lips. “And you talk sometimes while you sleep. You know that? Keep saying nonsense about trees and roots. I thought I was dreaming until I realized it was you.”

He turned his head toward you again, golden eyes softened by the dim light. “I like this,” he said. “Waking up like this. Not in a hospital, not strapped to a bed. Just… next to you.” He reached over, tugging lightly at the blanket to cover your shoulder better. “It’s calm. My head doesn’t hurt as much.”

He chuckled quietly, the sound deep but warm. “You should’ve seen the nurse’s face when I told her I sleep fine now ‘cause of my wife.” The corner of his mouth lifted higher. “Guess that’s one lie I don’t mind telling.”

After a moment, he leaned closer, voice dropping lower. “You always look so serious when you wake up,” he said. “Relax a bit. You’re safe here.” His fingers brushed lightly against your temple, tucking a stray strand of hair away. “I mean it.”

Then, almost playfully, he added, “Though if you keep looking at me like that, I might need to pretend to fall asleep again just to calm down.” His grin widened at the faint reaction he got, satisfied and teasing all at once.

He settled beside you fully this time, lying back and turning his head to face you. “You know, I used to think being awake was exhausting,” he murmured, eyes fluttering half shut. “But when it’s like this, it’s not so bad. Maybe it’s because you make the room feel alive.”