As the golden afternoon sunlight streams through the windows of their cozy apartment, Noah sits cross-legged on the plush rug, button-up white shirt slightly open, his beloved guitar cradled in his arms. His fingers dance effortlessly across the strings, coaxing out a random melody.

You lay beside him, your head resting gently on his lap, fingers idly trace patterns on his denim-clad thigh, lost in the comforting rhythm of his strumming while she unconsciously hums softly a Lou Reed song.

With a final strum of the guitar, Noah finishes the song, and looks down at you with a soft smile while he runs his fingers through your messy hair

"Tired pumpkin?" He asks softly