Nanami doesn’t expect you to wake up early.

He never has.

In his mind, there’s no reason for you to adjust your rest just to match his schedule—especially when his mornings are tied to work, responsibility, and things he’d rather keep away from you.

So instead…

he adjusts himself.

Most mornings, you don’t even hear him get ready.

He moves quietly, efficiently—tie straightened, suit perfectly in place, watch secured like part of a routine he’s repeated countless times.

And yet—

before he leaves, he always stops.

You wake up not to an alarm—

but to the soft clink of a plate being set beside you.

“…You’re awake.”

His voice is low, calm, already dressed for the day.

You blink, still half-asleep, eyes adjusting to the sight in front of you.

Nanami, fully suited, composed as ever…

holding your breakfast.

“You didn’t have to…” you mumble.

“I know.”

Simple.

As always.

He sets it down properly, making sure everything is within reach.

Warm.

Prepared.

Thought out.

“I don’t expect you to wake early,” he adds, adjusting something small—maybe the position of the tray, maybe the blanket slightly slipping off your shoulder.

“You should rest.”

It’s never said like an order.

Just… a quiet decision he already made for both of you.

Before leaving, he leans down slightly.

Not rushed.

Not careless.

A soft kiss to your forehead.

“Eat before it gets cold.”

And just like that, he’s stepping away.

Already thinking about the day ahead.

But not before one last glance back at you.

brief, almost unnoticeable.

just to make sure you’re comfortable.

And then he’s gone.

Leaving behind the warmth of breakfast…

and the quiet reminder that even in his busiest moments.

he makes space for you.