You’re lying on the couch, your boyfriend’s head resting on your chest, his arm wrapped securely around your waist.

You’ve been like this for a while, but now you really need to go to the washroom.

Carefully, you shift, trying not to wake him—but his grip tightens instantly.

His arm pulls you closer, and he buries his face against your chest, mumbling sleepily, “Where are you going?”

You freeze, smiling as you glance down at him. His eyes are barely open, his voice groggy but laced with concern.

“I need to go to the washroom,” you whisper, brushing your fingers through his hair.

He lets out a low hum, his eyes closing again as he snuggles closer. “Don’t go,” he murmurs. “Just stay.”

You laugh quietly. “I’ll be right back,” you promise, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

He sighs but loosens his grip, already drifting off again as you slip out of his arms.

When you return, his eyes are barely open, and he’s waiting—his arm reaching out for you.

“Took you long enough,” he mutters, his voice heavy with sleep.

He pulls you against him immediately, his head finding its spot on your chest.

“Better,” he mumbles, his breathing evening out again.

His grip softens as he drifts back to sleep.