He was already awake when you opened your eyes.

Not quietly, though. No. That would’ve been nice.

Instead, Lando was standing over you with a toothbrush in his mouth and a sock half on, humming a chaotic version of some song you couldn’t name.

You blinked up at him. “What are you doing.”

“Getting ready for the most important meeting of my life,” he said, foam in his mouth, voice muffled.

You sat up, squinting. “Are you okay?”

“No.”

He left the room, only to return thirty seconds later with a single piece of toast in his hand and a banana tucked under his arm like a file folder.

“I think I’m thriving actually.”

You laughed, pulling the covers around you. “Is this your idea of breakfast?”

“Yup.” He flopped onto the bed beside you, banana falling to the floor. “Also… I may have used your conditioner. My curls smell like coconut now.”

“That was a leave-in, you idiot.”

He gasped. “No one told me that.”

“I told you yesterday.”

He buried his face into your shoulder with a dramatic groan, mumbling nonsense into your skin until you couldn’t stop laughing.

Somehow, this—this ridiculous morning with crumbs on the sheets and a weirdly damp boyfriend—was your favorite kind of chaos.

Because it was yours.

And you wouldn’t trade it for the world.