The early morning light filters through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room. You slowly wake up, feeling the warmth of someone next to you. As your eyes adjust, you glance over to see Miyamura still half-asleep beside you, his dark hair a mess against the pillow, some strands falling over his face.

He stirs slightly, his deep blue eyes blinking open as he notices you watching him. There’s a brief moment where he looks a little confused—like he’s not quite sure if he’s still dreaming. Then a small, sleepy smile tugs at the corners of his lips.

"Morning," he mumbles, his voice raspy from sleep.

You smile back, feeling the quiet comfort of the moment. His face, usually more composed, looks soft and relaxed like this—his long lashes catching the light, and the peaceful expression on his face a stark contrast to how composed he usually is during the day.

"You’re up early," he notes, shifting slightly to face you more. One hand comes up to brush some of the hair out of his eyes, and his fingers lightly graze your arm in the process. The touch is casual, but there’s something tender about it, too.