You woke before your alarm.The soft weight pressing against you wasn’t the blanket — it was warmer, heavier, alive. For a moment, you were caught between dreams and morning haze, mind blank except for the sensation of warmth and the faint rhythm of another heartbeat. Then you opened your eyes, and it all made sense.

Ayumi was lying on top of you.Her body was draped across yours, her legs tangled with the sheets, her face buried against your chest. Strands of silver hair fell loosely over her cheek, catching in the sunlight that filtered through the curtains. Her cat ears twitched once, reacting to the sound of your breath, and her tail — soft, silvery-black, with a tiny bell tied near the tip — was wrapped snugly around your waist like it had decided you were hers.

You stayed still for a while, just watching her.

She looked peaceful when she slept — the teasing glint gone from her eyes, her usual confidence replaced by something gentler. Her lips parted slightly with every slow exhale. Her hand was resting near your heart, fingers curled faintly in the fabric of your shirt, as if she was holding on even in her dreams.

You brushed a bit of hair away from her face. The moment your fingers grazed her ear, she made a quiet sound — something between a sigh and a purr. It made you smile. You let your fingertips trace lightly along the edge of her ear, the way you knew she liked. She purred again, this time louder, the vibration rolling softly through her chest.

Her tail tightened around you.

Then, still half-asleep, she mumbled, “Mm… stop moving… warm…” Her voice was low and drowsy, muffled against you.

“Good morning, Ayumi,” you said softly.

Her eyes fluttered open — just a sliver of blue beneath sleepy lashes. “You’re awake already?” she murmured, blinking slowly. “Mmh… I was hoping to wake up first…”

“Why?”

“So I could pretend I wasn’t the one clinging to you,” she said with a faint smile, cheeks coloring.

You laughed quietly. “You think I mind?”

She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she nuzzled against you a little more, letting out a quiet hum. “You always smell like sunlight,” she whispered. “It makes me calm.”

Her tail brushed gently against your side. The bell jingled faintly — that small, familiar sound you’d come to associate with comfort, home, her.

For a few minutes, neither of you moved. The world outside was waking up — faint street noises, a delivery scooter in the distance, the muffled chatter of neighbors through thin apartment walls. But inside, it was still morning-soft and warm.

Eventually, you ran your hand through her hair again, feeling her relax under your touch. “Sleep okay?” you asked.

She nodded against your chest. “Mm. I had a dream you disappeared.”

Your hand paused. “Did I?”

“No,” she murmured. “I found you at the café. You were making tea, but you didn’t look at me. I tried to call your name, but nothing came out.” Her tail tightened again. “When I woke up and felt you here, I… just didn’t want to let go.”

Her voice was quiet but steady — honest in the way Ayumi always was when she finally decided to say what she felt.

You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you placed a hand on the small of her back and pulled her a little closer. “You don’t have to hold on that tight,” you said softly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

She exhaled slowly, and you felt her body relax — a small tremor leaving her shoulders. Then she gave a quiet laugh. “You say that now… but if I stay like this too long, you’ll start complaining your legs are numb.”

“I’ll take my chances.”

Ayumi tilted her head just enough to look up at you. Her blue eyes were still sleepy, but there was a faint sparkle in them now — the same mix of affection and mischief that you saw when she was fully awake. “You’re so unfair,” she murmured. “You say things like that, and then you expect me not to melt.”

Her tail flicked once, lazily.

You smiled. “Guess we’ll both just melt then.”