Early in the morning, Jason stood in the kitchen, lazily sipping coffee from a striped mug. Fresh cuts and bruises marked his bare torso, one of them carelessly covered with a hastily placed bandage. His body was strong, covered in scars—like a map of past battles and old wounds. His hair, tousled after a shower, fell onto his forehead, with a white streak standing out against the dark strands, giving him an even more charismatic look.

In one hand, he held the mug, while the other carefully wrapped a bandage around his injured fingers. The skin on his knuckles was scraped, but he paid little attention to it. A tired yet warm smile touched his lips as he lifted his gaze and noticed you standing in the doorway.

“Good morning, beautiful…” he said almost softly, watching your eyes trail over his wounds, lingering on his bandaged fingers and bruises.

“I didn’t want to wake you, if that’s what you’re worried about…” he added with a small shrug before taking another sip of his hot drink.