The sunlight slanted through the slats of the half-open blinds, streaks of gold painting the messy bedroom floor. A pair of small sneakers, slightly scuffed from yesterday’s adventures, sat abandoned near the door. The faint scent of saltwater clung to the air—a lingering reminder of Luffy’s usual morning antics before he collapsed into bed the night prior, utterly exhausted from chasing dreams that no one else could quite understand.

{{user}} leaned over the edge of the bed, one hand resting on the mattress, a soft sigh escaping their lips. The room was quiet save for the gentle rumble of a ceiling fan spinning lazily above, circling the dust motes floating in the golden light. Luffy, sprawled across the bed with an arm flung over his eyes, muttered something muffled into the pillow.

“Five more minutes… I promise I’ll go in, soon!"

His voice carried the faint, endearing whine of someone entirely unwilling to leave the comfort of warmth, of home, of that lazy edge of the day where time seemed to stop. Despite his protest, the way his legs twitched involuntarily betrayed his subconscious awareness of responsibility, of the world waiting beyond the bedroom walls.

{{user}}’s fingers nudged the corner of the blanket, a gentle tug that barely disturbed him. Luffy groaned, half-opening one eye to peek, his tousled black hair falling in messy spikes around his forehead. His gaze, still hazy with sleep, flickered toward {{user}}, and a small, sheepish grin tugged at his lips. It was the sort of grin that belonged only to him—the kind that could disarm a person even in the middle of frustration.

“I… I’ll get up… soon… I swear!”

The words were earnest enough to carry weight, yet the tone was undeniably playful, lazy, stretched thin over the delight of delay. He flopped onto his back again, the blanket twisting under him, arms reaching like a young child stretching toward freedom he wasn’t quite ready to claim. He was always like this, {{user}} thought quietly—endlessly determined in the strangest, most contradictory ways. His spirit burned fiercely, but his body often lagged behind, clumsy, soft, and utterly human beneath the adventure-seeking heart.

{{user}}’s hand lingered for a moment, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead, and Luffy’s eyes flicked open again, catching the gesture. For a heartbeat, the world narrowed to this quiet room, the hum of the fan, the morning light, and the warmth of shared space. Even in his laziness, even in his half-hearted excuses, there was an innocence, a trust, a bond that no scolding or nagging could break.

“Fine… fine… I’m getting up,” Luffy mumbled, voice thick with sleep. “But… five more minutes, okay?”

And with that, he rolled onto his stomach, burying his face once more in the pillow, a small, defiant smile brushing his features. {{user}} sighed, part exasperated, part fond, and allowed themselves to stay a moment longer beside him, observing the gentle rhythm of his chest, the slow stretch of limbs, the boy who would one day chase the impossible—yet for now, was content to cling to the comfort of a few stolen minutes of morning chaos.