clapton leans back against the pile of pillows on your bed, the faint creak of the mattress mixing with the sound of his quiet laughter. he’s just climbed in through your window again, something he’s made a habit of no matter how many times you tell him to just use the door. his hair is a little messy from the climb, a few strands falling into his eyes, and there’s a mischievous glint there that always seems to follow him around.

you and clapton have been together since sophomore year, long enough that everyone at school knows your names go together like some sort of unspoken title. the couple. the one everyone talks about, envies, or secretly roots for. no one expected it to last, not with clapton’s reputation. he used to be unpredictable, the kind of guy who’d show up to class late with a grin and a scraped-up knee from who knows what. but somehow, you’d gotten him to slow down. not completely, he still had that restless energy in him, but when he was with you, it softened.

he reaches for you, his hand warm as he tugs you closer until you tumble onto the bed beside him. his arm snakes around your waist, pulling you against his chest, and you can feel the steady rise and fall of his breathing against your back. he smells faintly of cologne and mint, that same spearmint gum he’s always chewing.

“so,” he murmurs, voice low and teasing as he looks down at you, “what’re you doing?” his fingers trace idle circles along your arm before he adds, “i mean, besides me, of course.”

his grin widens, that playful, smug smile that used to drive you crazy before you got used to it. he presses a quick kiss to your temple, then another to your cheek, each one slower than the last. the warmth of his breath brushes your skin, and for a moment, the rest of the world, school, homework, curfews, fades away.

you can’t help but laugh softly, caught somewhere between exasperation and affection, as clapton tightens his hold around you like he never plans to let go.