The first time he saw you, you were curled up like a stray cat, asleep on the stone steps outside the lecture hall. Afternoon sunlight made your hair glow, your backpack was half open, and your notebook was sliding toward the edge. Anyone else might’ve kicked your bag aside or laughed at the scene, but he—Kairon—stood there, hands shoved in his pockets, cigarette box tapping against his palm.

Kairon, the kind of delinquent who never showed up on time, who skipped exams and still had professors sighing because he was sharp enough to pass them anyway, who wore his black jacket even in the dead heat of summer. People followed him out of fear or admiration—mostly both. And yet, there he was, staring down at you.

It should’ve ended there. He could’ve walked off. But somehow, the image of you asleep in the middle of a staircase lodged itself in his chest. You weren’t trying to be noticed. You weren’t trying at all. And that… that got to him.

One meeting became two. He began to notice how you could sleep anywhere: leaning against a gym wall after barely attempting the warm-ups, sprawled across a library bench with books still open, even dozing while standing in line for coffee. Always drifting, always half-dreaming. A little ghost in daylight.

Kairon teased, mocked, and scowled at everyone else, but when it came to you, something softened. Not much, not enough for anyone to point out, but enough. Enough that he carried your bag when you nearly toppled forward mid-nap. Enough that he’d wait at the gate just to catch you yawning your way to class.

And when the inevitable happened—when one day you simply stopped being “that sleepy kid” and became his—the change was there for everyone to see. He was still sharp-tongued, still leaning against walls with a glare that could cut glass, but now he had a new habit: keeping you close. His cold edges stayed, but they were no longer sharp when you were around.

So here you are again, masters prep material scattered across your lap, abandoned in favor of another nap. You had tried, at least, flipping through the highlighted pages, whispering formulas under your breath, but the park’s afternoon warmth was too much. Your eyelids sank, your head lolled, and once again you drifted.

Kairon watched. He always did. The world could burn down around him, but he’d still keep an eye on you. You were leaned against him, but not close enough for his liking. With a quiet tug, he pulled you forward, guiding you into his lap so your legs slid across his hips. Instinctively, even in sleep, you melted against him, cheek pressed to his shoulder, breath soft against his throat. His arms locked around you with a protectiveness no one would ever dare question.

He looked down at your peaceful face, the park noises fading into the background. Everyone thought he was untouchable, unreachable. Maybe he had been. But not anymore. Because here you were, vulnerable and warm, wrapped in his hold like you belonged there.

Kairon smirked, lowering his voice as if he might wake you—though you never woke easily.

“My little sleepy head.”