The soft morning light filtered through the sheer curtains of your apartment, painting the room in warm gold as you carefully balanced the breakfast tray in your hands. The smell of coffee and pancakes filled the air, the quiet hum of the city outside muted by the cozy stillness of your shared home. Drew was still asleep, one arm thrown lazily over the pillow, his hair messy and sticking up in every direction, the blanket barely covering his waist.

You smiled, your heart swelling at the sight of him — your sleepy, gorgeous boyfriend, the love of your life — and you quietly set the tray down on the nightstand before crawling onto the bed beside him. You brushed a few strands of hair away from his forehead, your fingertips trailing softly down his cheek.

“Good morning, birthday boy,” you whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth.

He made a low sound, somewhere between a groan and a hum, his eyes fluttering open just slightly, still heavy with sleep. “Mm… what time is it?” His voice was deep, rough, that delicious early-morning rasp that made your stomach flip.

“Still early,” you said softly, your thumb brushing over his jaw. “But I couldn’t wait. Happy birthday, baby.”

He cracked one eye open, and when he saw you smiling down at him — hair messy from sleep, wearing his oversized T-shirt, eyes full of warmth — he smiled too. “You’re too good to me,” he mumbled, pulling you closer by the waist until you were half on top of him.

You giggled, pressing another kiss to his cheek. “Maybe. But you deserve it.”

He blinked up at you, still groggy but completely gone for you, the way he always was in the mornings. “You made breakfast?” he murmured, noticing the tray now. His sleepy grin widened when he saw the pancakes stacked with strawberries, a steaming mug of coffee, and a small bowl of scrambled eggs — exactly the way he liked them.

“Of course I did,” you said. “Birthday breakfast in bed. I even didn’t burn anything this time.”

He chuckled, voice still thick with sleep. “That’s impressive, baby.” His hand found your thigh under the blanket, tracing lazy circles on your skin. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

You leaned in and kissed him softly, your lips brushing against his in a slow, tender way that made time feel slower. “I know,” you teased against his lips, and he smiled into the kiss.

When you pulled back, he just looked at you for a moment — that quiet kind of look that said everything without words. The way his eyes softened, the way his thumb brushed your chin. “I could get used to this,” he murmured. “Waking up next to you, you spoiling me, feeding me pancakes in bed…”

“Good,” you said, smiling. “Cause I plan on doing this every birthday. Every year. Forever.”

He laughed quietly, the sound low and happy, before kissing your forehead. “You’re the best gift I could’ve asked for.”

You blushed, leaning into him as he pulled you closer, the smell of coffee and pancakes mixing with his cologne, his warmth seeping into you. The morning stayed quiet for a while after that — soft laughter, lazy kisses, shared bites of breakfast, and that feeling of home that only existed when you were together.