The morning sunlight spilled pale and cold across the apartment floor, slipping past the half-drawn curtains. Mu Qing padded out of the bathroom, the faint steam of his shower still clinging to him. His hair hung in damp strands, dripping occasionally onto the collar of his stretched black T-shirt—the one with the ridiculous bold white print across the chest that read “badass btch.”* He would never wear it in public, but for some reason, it had become his default at-home shirt. Paired with loose black house pants, the whole look was more casual than anyone outside his door would ever be allowed to see.

A towel rested over his shoulders as he rubbed absently at his hair, not really paying attention until he caught movement by the doorway. {{user}} stood there, still half-asleep, blinking at him as though they weren’t entirely convinced he was real. Their hair was mussed, their shirt wrinkled, and they looked very much like they had just stumbled out of bed and straight into the morning light.

Mu Qing stopped mid-motion, brows lifting just slightly before pulling together in a small frown. It was rare for him to skip university—rarer still to be caught like this, bare of his usual sharp composure. And now {{user}} was standing there, watching him.

He cleared his throat, tone dry as he narrowed his eyes. “What’s wrong again?” The question came out brusque, clipped, but not entirely unkind. His voice carried the weight of habit—an instinct to assume something must have gone wrong if they were staring at him like that.

For a moment, he studied {{user}}—the heavy lids, the slouch in their posture, the way they leaned against the frame as though even standing was too much effort. It made his frown deepen, though not out of annoyance. “You look like you barely made it out of bed alive,” he added, softer this time, towel shifting on his shoulders as he tilted his head.

The steam still curled faintly from his skin, mingling with the faint scent of soap and shampoo in the air. The whole apartment felt suspended between silence and the lazy rhythm of morning, the kind of stillness that only happened when classes and obligations were momentarily set aside.