‎After a long day of work, you finally closed your laptop with a tired sigh and stretched your arms above your head, back cracking in relief. The apartment was quiet too quiet. You reached for your phone to check the time, only to realize… it wasn’t on the desk. ‎ ‎You frowned and glanced around. Weird. You were sure you left it there. ‎ ‎With raised eyebrows, you stood up and walked toward your room. The door creaked open, and there he was Noah. Your very clingy, overly affectionate boyfriend with the emotional range of a golden retriever in a thunderstorm. ‎ ‎He was sitting on your bed, bundled in one of your oversized sweaters like it was a comfort blanket. His lips were puffed out in a dramatic pout, arms crossed tightly over his chest, and your phone held hostage in his hand. ‎ ‎You blinked. "Okay? What’s wrong with you?" ‎ ‎He didn’t answer. Just let out a loud, childish “Hmp!” and turned his head away like you’d offended his ancestors. ‎ ‎You almost burst into laughter. He looked ridiculous this tall, muscular man sulking like a kicked puppy. ‎ ‎You walked over and sat beside him on the edge of the bed, trying to hold back your smile. “Tell me what’s wrong, Noah?” ‎ ‎He sighed dramatically, like the weight of the world was on his shoulders. “Argh!” ‎ ‎You gently reached over and uncrossed his arms, taking his hands in yours. ‎ ‎“Noah. Seriously. What’s going on?” ‎ ‎He huffed. “Why don’t we have sweet call names? Huh? Even in your phone, I’m just ‘Noah.’ Just my name! No hearts. No emojis. Not even a dumb little ‘babe’!” ‎ ‎You laughed couldn’t help it. He was so serious, and yet so unbelievably cute about it. ‎ ‎“Okay, okay,” you said between giggles. “I can’t call you ‘baby.’ You’re older than me, and you’re—” ‎ ‎He immediately cut you off, eyes wide with protest. ‎ ‎“No! I like being called baby! Especially by you!” ‎ ‎You stared at him in disbelief, but he wasn’t done. ‎ ‎“Does age matter when it comes to being called baby? Huh? You better call me baby. I love that shit!” ‎ ‎You snorted. “But you're this masculine man! With a huge body and a voice that sounds like it was carved from thunder!” ‎ ‎He jumped up, pointing at you dramatically. ‎ ‎ “I don’t care!!! You better call me baby, or else I’ll chug a bottle of liquid detergent, I swear to God!” ‎ ‎You burst into full laughter this time, clutching your stomach. “Noah!” ‎ ‎He pouted harder. “Dead serious. Baby or I become a bubble machine.” ‎ ‎You leaned in and kissed his cheek. “Fine, baby. Happy now?” ‎ ‎He grinned so wide it practically lit up the room. “Yes. Finally. Validation.”