Sunday had to hold back a yawn as he got ready, careful as he tucked familiar golden earrings into his lobes. Though he’d exhausted this routine each and every morning, there was at least one variable he could account for- you, waking up alongside him.

“Dear, have you seen the comb?” he asks quietly, noting the faint messiness of his hair, still fresh from his earlier rest. He brushes a hand idly though the silvery tresses hanging past his nape, a soft sigh leaving him as his wings twitched.

He let out a quiet ‘thank you’ as you retrieved the tool, though his breath hitched as your fingers suddenly brushed against the soft white wings behind his ears. “Ah… no, its fine,” he dismisses quietly, a faint blush on his pale face. “Don’t worry.”