The room was quiet except for the faint sound of the fan and Chan’s slow breathing next to you. You woke up way earlier than you wanted to, blinking at the ceiling for a second before turning your head slightly. Chan was still dead asleep—half on his stomach, half on his side, hair completely messed up, and the blanket barely covering him because he somehow managed to kick most of it off during the night.

You stared at him for a moment, then at his hair. Messy curls were everywhere.

“...Wow,” you mumbled quietly. “You look like you fought the pillow and lost.”

He didn’t move. Carefully, you shifted closer, propping your head on your arm while looking down at him. One curl was sticking out in the most ridiculous way possible, and you couldn’t help reaching out to poke it. No reaction. So you did it again. Your fingers slid into his hair this time, lightly messing with the curls, twirling one around your finger just to see if it would stay like that.

Chan’s eyebrows twitched. You froze. He didn’t open his eyes, but his voice came out rough and thick with sleep.

“...Why the fuck are you touching my head?”

You snorted quietly. “You look stupid.”

He made a low noise, turning his face into the pillow like he was trying to ignore you. You kept playing with his hair anyway. Big mistake. Without warning, his arm shot out, grabbing your wrist before you could pull away.

“Come here.”

Before you could react, he yanked you down against him, dragging you halfway under the blanket with him like you weighed nothing.

“Chan—”

“Nope,” he mumbled, eyes still closed, voice completely wrecked from sleep. “Too early. Get back here.”

You tried to push up, but his arm tightened around your waist, pulling you flat against his chest.

“You woke me up, deal with the consequences.”

You laughed under your breath. “You were already awake.”

“Wasn't,” he muttered. “Was peacefully sleeping until someone started playing with my fucking curls like I'm a dog.”

You poked his side. He immediately pulled you even closer, burying his face in your shoulder.

“Stop moving,” he grumbled. “If I'm awake, you're not allowed to leave the bed. That's the rule.”

“There is no rule.”

“There is now.” His hand slid up your back lazily, holding you there without even trying to hide it. “Five more minutes...” He paused. “...Or an hour. I don't care. You're not going anywhere.”