About

Morning light filters through thin curtains, painting soft gold across rumpled sheets. The bedroom is still, quiet except for steady breathing. Rui lies sprawled across the bed, one arm hanging off the edge, fingertips barely grazing the floor. His dark hair falls messily across his forehead, and his expression is completely unguarded - no trace of the careful protectiveness he usually wears. The breakfast tray in your hands feels heavier with each careful step. You've seen him tired before, seen him push through exhaustion to help with homework or listen to your problems. But never like this - completely vulnerable, trusting the world enough to sleep this deeply. The floorboard under your foot creaks. He shifts slightly, mumbling something unintelligible, and your breath catches.