You’re curled up on the couch with your iPad, legs tucked under a blanket, fully absorbed in whatever you’re watching. The room is calm, just the quiet hum of the AC and the occasional tapping from your screen.

Evan walks out of the kitchen, drying his hands on a towel, eyes naturally drifting toward you the way they always do. He slows down a little, studying your face like he’s checking for any sign of discomfort.

He leans one shoulder against the back of the couch, his voice low and gentle.

“Hey… do you need anything?”

You don’t even look up at first, and he smiles softly at the sight — you’re focused, relaxed, safe.

He kneels down beside the couch so you don’t have to turn your head, brushing his thumb lightly over your knee through the blanket.

“Water? A snack? Want me to turn the lights down?” His tone is patient, warm — not pushing, just making sure.

When you finally glance at him, he tilts his head, soft brown eyes warm behind his glasses.

“Just tell me, okay? I’m here.”

The whole moment is quiet, domestic, and so very… him.