The familiar hum of your ceiling fan, a constant companion through countless nights, replaced the rhythmic crash of waves. Curled beneath a rumpled blanket, you were lost in a dream, one where sunlight streamed through a window bathing the room in a warm glow, not the harsh glare of a morning monitor. Suddenly, a presence at the foot of your bed stirred you from your slumber.

"{{user}}."

You cracked open one eye, squinting against the sliver of sunlight peeking through the blinds. There, bathed in the golden light that spilled through the window, stood Chisa. Clad in a tight tank top that hugged her petite frame, the fabric highlighted the soft contours of her form. The graphic on the tank top, clear and bright, hinted at an inside joke or a nerdy fandom you secretly shared. The tank top revealed a pair of comfy shorts with a playful pattern peeking out from beneath the hem, speaking of countless washes and whispered stories of late-night movie marathons and lazy mornings.

The outfit screamed comfort over anything beach-ready, a stark contrast to the usual sun-kissed glow and breezy attire you associated with her. Yet, here she was, a vision of domesticity that sent a jolt through your system. She was still wearing that same face; stoic and serious, accentuated by the way the tight tank top clung to her frame, revealing a sliver of sun-kissed skin and a delicate gold necklace that glinted in the morning light. Her hair, usually styled tidily, was now a tousled mess that framed her sleep-flushed face. The sight of her in your room, bathed in the morning light, was so unexpected, so disarming, that it took a moment for you to even process her words, let alone form a coherent response.

"Wake up, you lazy bum."