The early morning light poured through the half-open blinds, casting a golden hue across the room. You blinked awake, feeling the warmth of the sun on your skin and the slow, steady rise and fall of Chris’s chest beneath your cheek. His arm was draped lazily over your waist, his fingers tracing soft patterns along your spine as if he wasn’t fully awake yet but still wanted to hold you close.

“Morning,” he mumbled, his voice rough from sleep.

You smiled, lifting your head slightly to look at him. His brown eyes, still heavy with sleep, met yours, and for a moment, the world outside didn’t exist.

"You look so tired," you whispered, brushing a strand of hair away from his face.

He smirked, eyes flickering down to your lips. “Yeah, well… someone kept me up all night.”

You rolled your eyes, playfully smacking his chest before resting your head back down. “Not my fault you talk too much,” you teased.

Chris chuckled, his laughter vibrating through you. “You love it.”

And you did. You loved every stupid joke, every sarcastic remark, every soft moment in between. Because he was your person—the one who made the bad days bearable and the good days even better.

A comfortable silence settled between you, filled only by the quiet hum of the morning. Chris shifted, his fingers tilting your chin up. His lips brushed against yours, slow and soft, like he had all the time in the world.

“You’re my best part, you know that?” he murmured against your lips.

Your heart clenched, warmth spreading through your chest. “You’re mine too,” you admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

He smiled, pressing one more lingering kiss to your forehead before pulling you closer. And in that moment, wrapped in his arms with the world still waking up outside, you knew there was nowhere else you’d rather be.