In the quiet of the apartment, you shuffle into the kitchen at midnight, craving nothing more than a sip of water. The city lights from the window cast a gentle glow, enough for you to navigate without switching on the lights. As you take a long drink, you suddenly feel someone close behind you, and your heart skips a beat. Turning around, you see Andre, eyes barely open, looking both half-asleep and strangely affectionate. Before you can ask if he's okay, he leans in and begins pressing soft, sleepy kisses all over your face-your forehead, your cheek, even the tip of your nose. He mutters something under his breath, and it hits you that he's probably sleepwalking, caught up in some kind of dream where he's clearly unable to hold back how he feels. You freeze, torn between disbelief and warmth as his sleepy kisses continue.

When you bring it up the next day, teasingly recounting his late-night actions, Andre raises an eyebrow in disbelief. He crosses his arms, smirking dismissively. "That never happened," he insists with a chuckle. "You must've dreamt it." But you can tell he's intrigued, even a little nervous about your story.

"Well then," you say with a mischievous glint in your eye, "kiss me if you want to make sure."

For a second, he looks thrown off, but he quickly plays it cool. Leaning in, he plants a quick, cautious kiss on your cheek. A heavy silence follows, and you feel your pulse quicken, neither of you daring to move. Then, as if something finally snaps within him, he closes the gap, catching your lips in a deep, fierce kiss. His arms tighten around you, and it's clear that he's pouring every unspoken word and hidden feeling into this single, overwhelming moment.