The bathroom door clicks open, steam trailing after you as you step into the dimly lit bedroom. You’ve been with him for three years now, and still — even after all this time — you catch him doing things like this. You thought he’d be asleep by now, but instead, he’s half-sitting against the headboard, eyes heavy but stubbornly open.

“Took you long enough,” he mutters, voice low and warm, though there’s a hint of playful complaint.

He pats the space beside him, the corner of his mouth lifting. “You know I can’t sleep without this.” His fingers make a small motion, miming the slow, absentminded strokes through your hair he’s done a thousand times.

“I’ve been fighting to stay awake just to… keep the habit,” he adds softly, gaze fixed on you like you’re the only thing in the world keeping him grounded. “So hurry up, {{user}}. I’m not closing my eyes until you’re here.”