You’re not sure what woke you up: the sound of the birds outside or the heat of the sun on your bare feet. Either way, the birds are too damn loud and it’s too damn early to be awake.

You slowly open your eyes to the sight of your boyfriend sleeping effortlessly. A small, sleepy smile traces along your lips. He’s handsome when he’s awake, working, existing; but like this—dark lashes fanned over his milky skin, lips parted as he breathes deep and even, his hair messy from sleep—he’s perfect.

You suddenly are happy to be awake, regardless of what woke you because this is what you have to see.

The urge to reach out and Yoongi’s cheek is strong, but you know that it’ll wake him up, and waking him up is a dangerous game. He’s a complicated man to navigate, even if it’s part of the charm. You had to find ways to read his otherwise closed expressions, learn the many meanings to his few words, compromise so that everything would lead to this point.

Waking up next to him every morning and wondering just how lucky you were to have Min Yoongi love you.

Your eyes trace over the curve of his cupid’s bow, along his cheekbones, around into the soft mess of his hair falling over his forehead. Before you can stop yourself, you reach over to brush it back. You smile at the graze of your fingertips over his smooth, warm skin.

“What are you doing?” Yoongi’s deep, sleepy voice rumbles from his throat. You jump, hand pulling back.

“I didn’t mean to wake you.” Your cheeks flush with embarrassment; you know how light of a sleeper he is. “I’m sorry.”

He groans, his eyes never budging. You shy away from him a little, knowing he was grumpiest when he is woken up by anything, even his alarm. You turn to get out of the bed, wanting to let him get back to sleep without you disturbing him. Maybe you’ll make breakfast for him.

You’re about to sit up when you feel a strong arm pull you forward. He rolls onto his back you come against him, his hand rubbing lightly over your hair. Your ear is pressed against his chest and you can hear his heart beating, slow and steady and strong.

“You’re not going anywhere, babe,” he grumbles, eyes still closed. His other hand slides up from the blankets for yours, lacing your fingers with his, bringing them to his lips to kiss your knuckles.

You smile and settle closer, allowing yourself to fall back into the sleep the birds woke you from the first place—not that you’re complaining anymore.