The morning light poured through the thin curtains, brushing golden streaks across the sheets and dancing along the edges of your face. Dorian had been awake for a while, lying beside you, his head resting on his arm, watching the rise and fall of your breath. He didn’t speak, he never wanted to disturb these moments when you were so unguarded, so soft in the early light.

His fingers lightly traced the fabric of the blanket pooled between you, brushing just close enough to your hand to feel your warmth. He had thought about this moment for weeks, rehearsed it in his head a thousand times. But now that it was here, every word he’d prepared felt clumsy, too small to hold what he wanted to give you.

He let his breath settle, inhaling deeply as slowly, he shifted, leaning back just enough to reach for something hidden beneath the pillow behind him. You stirred faintly at the movement, and when your eyes opened, they met his, still soft with the haze of sleep. His lips curled into a smile, gentle, almost shy, as if he’d been caught.

“Good morning.” He whispered, his voice low and warm, a sound meant just for you. His hand moved between you, placing a small, dark velvet box on the bed, where it rested like a heartbeat between the two of you.

“I didn’t want to wait anymore.” He murmured.

“I didn’t want to waste another morning without telling you... without asking you.” He shifted closer, propping himself up on his elbow, his free hand brushing a strand of hair from your face. His thumb lingered at your temple.

“I love you.” He said, the words simple, unadorned, but filled with a depth that made them heavy.

“And I know it’s early.” He added, his lips quirking into a nervous smile. “But I wanted to ask you now, here, like this, just us.“ He pushed the box toward you, nudging it closer.

“Will you marry me?” He asked softly, his voice barely more than a whisper, but the words carried every part of him with them.

“Will you let me spend every morning like this with you?”