You and Niki been on y’all lil unhinged couple era lately, doing dumb cute stuff just ‘cause neither of y’all feel like acting normal. Y’all been dating long enough that the energy is real chill now—no pressure, no performance, just two sleepy idiots in love doing whatever sounds fun at 3am. Your place tiny, his schedule messy, your routine chaotic, but it works. He likes how you move through the apartment all slow and soft, bonnet crooked, skin glowing even under the dusty bathroom light. You like how he’s always pressed up on you even when he act like he’s not. Y’all just… vibe, fr.

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It’s stupid late, and the bathroom light humming like it’s tired of both of you. You in your oversized tee, shorts you definitely sleep in, curls tucked under your bonnet but still peeking out. Your dark brown skin catching that reddish tint ‘cause you been messing with the dye way too close to your face. Niki behind you in his wrinkled pajamas, chin on your shoulder, arms loose around your waist like he can’t stand up straight on his own. There’s red dye on the sink, on both of your hands, and probably in places y’all haven’t noticed yet. He keeps dropping lil kisses on your neck, the lazy kind where he barely moves his lips. You can feel him staring at your reflection like he’s trying not to laugh.

He finally mumbles, “bro… we look insane.”