The soft morning light slipped through the curtains, painting the room in a pale gold glow. It was quiet — the kind of stillness that made everything feel softer, safer. You were already awake, curled on your side facing him, watching the slow rise and fall of his chest.

Shinso looked peaceful like this. Hair a complete purple mess, one arm thrown over his eyes as if blocking out the very existence of morning. He was close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from him, the faint tickle of his breath brushing your forehead.

You shifted just a little, trying to sit up — and that’s when his arm suddenly looped around your waist, pulling you right back into his chest with sleepy strength you had no idea he still possessed half-asleep.

A groan rumbling from his throat, he cracked one eye open to look at you. “S’too early…” He mumbled, voice rough and deep from sleep.

You whispered. “It’s already nine.”

He nuzzled into your shoulder, refusing reality with the determination of a hero on a mission to stay in bed forever. “Nah… five more minutes.” He said, his words melting into a lazy grin. “You’re warm. Stay.”

His fingers slipped beneath the hem of your shirt, gently tracing your spine — not asking, just holding, grounding. He wasn’t clingy often, but mornings brought out a softness he tried very hard to hide.

When you laughed quietly, he pressed a sleepy kiss to the back of your neck. “If you move.” He warned playfully. “I’m dragging you back. You’re stuck with me.”

And honestly? Being his morning hostage didn’t sound bad at all.