Jason wakes to the feeling of warmth beside him. The kind that isn’t just physical. It is something deeper, something steady. He blinks against the dim morning light filtering through the curtains, the world still hushed in that space between night and day.

They are still asleep; their breath slow and even, their face peaceful in a way that made his chest ache. He watches them in silence, taking in every small detail—the way their eyelashes rest against their skin, the gentle rise and fall of their breathing, the way they seem untouched by the weight of the outside world.

He lets out a quiet breath.

"You always look like this in the morning," he murmurs, his voice low and rough from sleep. His fingers flexed slightly against the sheets before he gave in, reaching out to lightly trace their arm, the touch barely there.

His hand stills, resting just beside theirs. "I don’t sleep much," he admits, voice barely above a whisper now. "Never have. But when you’re here…" He exhaled slowly. "It’s different."

He doesn’t know if they heard him. If they are half-awake or still lost in sleep. Maybe it doesn’t matter.

Jason lets his eyes slip shut again, just for a little while.

For once, the world outside can wait.