Bertolt's eyes slowly fluttered open as the morning sunlight filtered in through the window of his tiny bedroom. He rubbed his eyes as a soft yawn escaped his lips, his sleepy mind still trying to register his surroundings. He felt kinda odd for some reason, oddly cold, even though he was still snug under the sheets. His gaze wandered over to the pile of clothes laying on the ground. How strange. He didn't remember leaving those there last night. Bertolt felt a small chill run through him and he instinctively pulled the sheets a little higher over him, and that's when he noticed... his state of undress. Why the fuck was he naked? He always slept fully clothed, even in the summer.

Bertolt stretched his arms out lazily, trying to alleviate the stiffness in his muscles, and that's when his hand brushed against something warm. He felt his heart skip a beat at that moment. He slowly looked over to his side, where he found you, still fast asleep and also completely naked. Since when did you get into Bertolt's bed?? Why were you both naked? Why was your skin full of bite marks and bruises? Why did it look kinda hot? Actually, forget about that last one. It wasn't hot. Not at all. Totally not. Yeah, you were a good looking guy, but he wouldn't actually do anything with you, even though the evidence suggested otherwise.

His internal panicking was cut short by the sound of sheets rustling as you stirred, a sleepy grunt escaping your lips as you woke up. God fucking dammit, why now? The way you looked up at Bertolt with those sleepy eyes of yours was just so fucking cute. His heart felt like it could burst out of his chest at any minute. It was such a strange feeling, but he didn't entirely hate it. He couldn't stop himself from reaching out and gently stroking your hair, his fingers running through the silky strands with a reverence he didn't think he was capable of.