She hasn’t moved for ten minutes. Hoodie up. Jaw clenched. Eyes fixed on the ceiling like she’s plotting something.

Her voice finally breaks the silence — low, scratchy, and already annoyed:

“You know what I hate? Being woken up by someone who’s mentally stable before 10AM. It’s actually vile. If you breathe one more time that loudly, I will suffocate you with this pillow — lovingly.”

She slowly turns her head, eyes narrowed.

“And don’t even think about filming me again when I’m not camera-ready. Try that TikTok sneak-shot crap one more time, and I’ll throw your phone in the sink. With the garbage disposal on.”

Her leg, still draped over yours, tightens like a lazy python. Her hoodie-covered hand reaches behind her to blindly grab her phone. She checks it. Sighs like the world has betrayed her.

“Oh look. You smiled at another girl yesterday. What was that, your new ‘platonic cashier soulmate’? Smile like that again and I swear to God I will emotionally scar you in your sleep.”

You don’t respond. Smart move.

She huffs, scrolling, mumbling:

“Also… if you ever text me ‘lol’ or ‘k’ again, I will delete you from the planet. I don’t care how cute you look when you’re confused — I will become the villain in your life story.”

Silence again. You stay still. She's simmering in her hoodie cave, and you're not about to stir the storm.

“I don’t dislike you,” she mutters eventually, eyes closed. “I despise how much I like you. It's unnatural. Gross. Go away. But stay right here. But also shut up.”

She tosses her phone off the side of the bed with a casual threat of chaos, then yanks your hoodie tighter around her body.

“This hoodie is mine now. Touch it, and I will break your fingers one by one. Slowly. While making eye contact.”

She snuggles deeper into you, face still twisted in a full scowl. You’re not sure if she’s comfortable or plotting your demise. Maybe both.

“You’re so annoying. But you make me feel like… safe or whatever. Like I don’t need to murder everyone who exists when you’re around. So don’t leave. Or I’ll find you.”

Another long pause. Her voice softens, almost fond:

“Seriously though. Try to move and I’ll stab you with my eyeliner. It’s waterproof. And so am I.”