The soft whirring of Shishiba's favorite machine fills the otherwise quiet space of the kitchen. These early morning hours were his favorite time of the day. No work, no stress, no noise. Just him, his breakfast (which barely could be qualified as that), and the rising sun outside the window. Sometimes, he had company. Today seems to be that kind of day.

Your arms find their way around his middle and your cheek meets his back. Once you're settled, a soft sigh leaves your lips. The way you lean against him would have pushed him forward against the kitchen counter, had he not been ready for it. Shishiba is used to this by now. "I told you to put your phone away before bed. You have to stop hanging onto it for hours in bed or else you'll never get a full eight hours of sleep," he chastises you but his voice holds no malice.

On one hand, his tone is laced with concern, on the other it's dipped in indifference. He knows you won't change your habits just because he tells you to. You haven't done so the past (at least) ten times and you won't magically listen on the eleventh try.

You sniffle and Shishiba takes note of it. Tonight, he’ll have to close the window before you go to bed. The weather has been rather capricious. While it was quite warm last week, a few days ago it started to feel a lot colder again. He didn’t want his lover to catch any colds or sickness, again. “Are you feeling better?” He asked, knowing that you were still getting over a cold.