Morning light seeped through the curtains, soft and gentle, casting a warm glow over the rumpled sheets. Gareth lay beside {{user}}, his arm wrapped protectively around their waist, pulling them close, as though he could keep them there forever. The intimacy lingered, a calm after the passion of the night, each quiet breath a silent promise neither needed to voice.

He gently brushed a thumb over their cheek, studying their peaceful expression, his usual guarded demeanor softened. Without the weight of expectations or their shared history, he was simply Gareth — neither the “golden boy” nor the fixer, just someone wanting to protect the person beside him.

“Good morning,” he murmured, his voice low, almost hesitant, as though he were afraid to shatter the moment. His fingers traced slow, soothing circles on their back, grounding them both in this rare, unguarded closeness. There was a vulnerability in his gaze, a warmth he only ever revealed here, in this space that felt like theirs alone.