You were already recording—phone hidden just off to the side, camera angled toward the soft morning light across his messy curls.

He looked ridiculously peaceful. Hoodie-warm, blanket-wrapped, face buried in his pillow like.

You yawned, voice quiet. “I think I’m gonna go home.”

Lando didn’t even open his eyes—just blinked once, all slow and confused like his brain was still processing. “…why…”

You shrugged, playing it off. “Dunno. Just wanna.”

He finally shifted, face squishing deeper into the pillow as he mumbled, “Did I do something?”

“No,” you said gently.

“Then why…” he whined, barely above a whisper now, voice so raspy you almost broke. “Why do you wanna leave…”

“I just… do.”

That’s when he rolled over—dramatically. Yanked the covers over his head with a sigh like you’d just broken up with him.

You held in a laugh, biting your lip. “Lando.”

No answer.

You leaned closer, brushing his shoulder. “Baby. I’m kidding. It’s a joke. I’m not going anywhere.”

He peeked out with the saddest little face, all puffy-eyed and pouty.

“You’re so mean in the morning,” he mumbled, already pulling you into his chest.

And you? You stopped recording. Because the way he held you tighter than ever—legs tangled, arm slung across your waist—wasn’t for TikTok.

That part was just for you.