The apartment was quiet, save for the faint hum of the city outside and the soft rustling of your hands through Bea’s hair. It was past 2 AM, and what was supposed to be a quick hair-dyeing session had turned into a whole night spent together—watching horror movies, ordering dinner, and, at some point, making out on her couch like always. Now, exhaustion settled in, but you still had a job to finish.

She sat cross-legged on the floor in front of you, her back leaning against your legs, eyes half-lidded with drowsiness. The only light came from the moon spilling through the window and the dim glow of her phone’s flashlight, propped up haphazardly on a pile of books. Her building had been out of power for two days, making everything feel a little more intimate, a little more still.

“You’re taking forever,” she mumbled, voice low and lazy.

“You’re the one who stalled all night,” you murmured, running your fingers through her hair, making sure the dye coated every strand.

She sighed, tipping her head back against your knee, looking up at you with those deep brown eyes. “Yeah, yeah… but you never complain.”

You didn’t. Not when it was her.