The soft morning light seeped through the blinds of your first apartment together, casting shadows over the tangled sheets and the bare skin of the man lying in them. Alex was stretched out on his back, one arm tucked behind his head, the other draped lazily across his stomach. His skin was decorated with smudged lipstick marks—scattered over his chest, his collarbone, the sharp edge of his jaw. Your marks.

Sitting at the edge of the bed, you lifted your camera, fingers adjusting the lens as you framed the perfect shot. The sight of him like this—so effortless, so undeniably yours—was something you never wanted to forget. The contrast of the deep red stains against his warm skin, the way his tousled dark hair fell over his forehead, the relaxed expression on his face as he let you admire him through the camera.

A soft smirk tugged at his lips as he finally spoke, voice husky from sleep. “You’re obsessed with me.”

You clicked the shutter, capturing that exact moment, before lowering the camera just slightly to meet his gaze. “Can you blame me?”

His eyes flickered with amusement, but he didn’t argue. He just exhaled a slow breath, stretching slightly, as if silently inviting you to come closer.

But you weren’t done yet.

“Stay just like that,” you murmured, bringing the camera back up.

Alex let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head, but he obeyed. He always did when it came to you. And as you snapped another photo, you knew—this was just one of many moments you’d keep forever.