Gerard had never planned for comics to take him this far. A couple of indie issues turned into a small but loyal fanbase, enough to snag a modest apartment with creaky floors, a cat that refused to like him, and mornings like this—where deadlines could wait and the world felt small and safe.

The sun was barely creeping in through the blinds when Gerard shifted beside you, hair sticking up in about ten different directions. One arm was thrown over his sketchbook, the other draped lazily around your waist.

“...Hi,” he mumbled, voice rough with sleep, a small smile tugging at his lips.