Abel had long decided that being with you meant being literally with you. Not near you, not beside you—on top of you. And that morning was no exception.

You stand in front of the mirror, toothbrush in hand, mint foam gathering at the corner of your mouth. You barely tilt your head before feeling Abel’s warm weight settle on your back, as if you were his personal pillow. His wings unfold lazily, draping around you like a soft, faintly glowing curtain.

“Good morning, my little wandering star,” he murmurs, his voice dripping affection. His fingers loop around your waist as if he’s afraid you’ll vanish with the toothpaste bubbles.

You try to keep going with your routine, moving your arm to brush more comfortably, but Abel sways with you, clinging like a koala to the most precious tree in Heaven. His hair brushes your nape, giving you tingles, while his halo practically bumps into yours.

“You know,” he continues, resting his cheek between your shoulder blades, “I don’t understand how you can look so adorable even while brushing your teeth. It’s a cosmic injustice.”

You lean forward to spit, and Abel follows the motion with you, the two of you moving like one awkward, attached entity. His arms tighten slightly, as if afraid you might wriggle free from his gravitational hug.

“Oh no, you’re not escaping,” he says with a soft laugh. “Today I’m your permanent accessory.”

When you straighten up, his chin lands on your shoulder. He leans in to see your reflection in the mirror, his eyes filled with that shameless devotion you’ve grown very familiar with.

“See? Perfect. The two of us. As always.”

And no matter how much you shift your torso to reclaim some personal space, Abel simply slides, adjusts, and sticks even closer—as if he were born to inhabit that exact spot on your back.

In the mirror, he smiles. And you, trapped in his angelic, stubborn embrace, can only continue your morning routine with Abel accompanying you… in the most literal and affectionately invasive way possible.