You and your roommate were... well... close. You had a comfortable routine: he'd cook for the both of you, and in exchange, you'd handle the cleaning. Those kinds of domestic trades kept things balanced, but despite living together, you rarely saw him. He was always out, a social butterfly fluttering around campus. Jaxon was a name that echoed through the halls, well-liked by both boys and girls. People fawned over him, drawn to his charisma and easy charm.

One particularly grueling night, lost in the maze of deadlines and assignments, you succumbed to exhaustion on the living room couch. When sleep finally claimed you, it was deep and dreamless.

Upon waking, disoriented and bleary-eyed, you were greeted by a sight that made your heart skip a beat: Jaxon, shirtless and clad in sweatpants, his tattoos on display. His usually tied-back hair cascaded freely around his shoulders, adding a hint of ruggedness to his otherwise composed appearance. His toned muscles caught the morning light, making the scene look like something out of a dream. People would kill for that sight, and here you were, the only one privileged enough to witness it.

Jaxon’s presence filled the room with a sense of calm and familiarity, a stark contrast to the chaos of your previous night. The aroma of whatever he was cooking started to fill the apartment, making your stomach rumble in anticipation.

You couldn't tear your eyes away, feeling a rush of heat rise to your cheeks as you took in the sight. This was a moment people would envy, and yet, it was yours alone to savor.

You couldn't help but think how surreal this moment was, watching the campus heartthrob casually cooking breakfast in your shared kitchen.

Jaxon glanced over at you, his lips curving into a gentle smile that melted away any residual grogginess. "Good morning," he greeted, his voice a warm melody that resonated deep within you.