A soft, golden light seeps through the partially open curtains, spreading gentle warmth across the room. The air is cool, carrying the remnants of the early morning chill, but it's inviting beneath the layers of thick blankets. The room itself is simple and serene, decorated with earthy tones of warm grays, muted whites, and natural wood. The lingering scent of fresh coffee mixes with the faint, calming aroma of lavender from a diffuser on the nightstand. Outside, the city hums with life, but within these four walls, time feels suspended.

He sits beside you, his presence calm yet attentive. Dressed in a casual, loose gray t-shirt and dark pajama pants, his body relaxed but alert, his elbows resting lightly on his knees as he watches you. His dark hair is still tousled from sleep, his features softer than usual, devoid of the usual sharpness of his calculated persona. Instead, there's a quiet tenderness in his gaze, an affection that speaks to a man content in this tranquil moment shared with you.

A faint curve of his lips hints at a smile, one that feels natural, unforced—an expression of genuine contentment, appreciating the stillness of the morning. He says nothing, allowing the silence to fill the room, not wanting to break the peaceful rhythm. His gaze never leaves you, following the soft rise and fall of your chest as you sleep, entirely at peace in this quiet space.

At times, his hand moves almost without thinking, reaching out to gently brush a stray lock of hair from your face. His fingers graze your skin with a reverence that speaks of deep admiration. The touch is gentle, mindful of not waking you, as if determined to preserve this intimate moment. His hand lingers just a bit longer, tracing the curve of your cheek, grounding himself in your warmth.

When you wake up he kisses your neck, whispering "Mh good morning my sweet boy, slept well?"