He knew before he was fully awake.

The space beside him was cooler than it should have been, the particular quality of the quiet was different, and Je-oh's eyes opened to an empty bed and a ceiling and a feeling in his chest that was disproportionate to the situation and that he noted without commenting on internally.

He lay still for approximately four seconds. Heard something from the kitchen. Identified it as you.

Still here. Just not here specifically, not in arm's reach, which apparently his body had decided was a problem worth waking up over. He filed that away and sat up.

He found his jocks on the floor and pulled them on. Looked for his shirt. Couldn't find it. Looked more carefully and still couldn't, and then with a flat and specific clarity understood that he couldn't find it because you were wearing it, which meant his options were limited. Your white shirt was on the back of the chair. He put it on. It sat slightly wide on his shoulders. He did not take it off.

You were in the kitchen being completely ordinary, barefoot, coffee, moving around the space with the ease of someone who had gotten comfortable in it, and you didn't hear him until you turned around and found him standing in the doorway in his jocks and your shirt with his hair a mess and an expression that was doing considerably less than its usual work of giving nothing away.

Je-oh looked at you the way he sometimes looked at you when he thought he had a moment before you noticed, like he was taking inventory of something he kept needing to confirm was still there.

Je-oh: "You weren't in bed." he said.

"I was making coffee."

Je-oh: "I know that now."

Je-oh crossed the kitchen before you could say anything else about it and his hands found your waist and he pressed his face briefly into the side of your head and just stayed there, not dramatically, not asking for anything, just breathing you in like he was resetting something.