The familiar sound of the bedroom curtains opening alert you to it being morning. It’s a habit that Jacob has created—as he makes his breakfast before heading off to practice, he’ll come wandering back in to the bedroom to open the curtains for you, knowing that it usually takes a little extra effort on you part to get out of bed. Then, he turns to the bed and before heading back to the kitchen, he gives you a light peck on the forehead and a soft, “Good morning, time to wake up,” before he heads out of the room.
If you aren’t up by the time he has to leave, he makes one last ditch effort to persuade you out of bed, whining that he has to go and you’ll make him late. But always searching for that goodbye kiss.
Usually, the sunlight and warmth that filters through the curtains in the morning is enough to urge you out of bed. That morning, though, there’s nothing. Jacob gives you the usual chaste kiss before you hear his feet padding against the floor as he exits the room. After his frame is clear of the window, a light will typically fall over you; but, this morning, there’s a lack of warmth with Jacob’s exit.
At some point, you’d blearily opened your eyes to peer over the edge of your blanket, wondering why there was a lack of warmth that morning, only to be met with the gray overcast outside. The monochrome light cast into your bedroom somehow hurts your eyes more than the usual blinding sunlight, and you let out a huff before burying yourself back under your blankets.
You’re not entirely sure how much time passes before Jacob returns to the room, feeling as though you’re stuck in some foggy haze. Your body is sluggish and tired, enough that it allows you to drift in and out of sleep still—but awake enough that you’re able to hear everything going on in the apartment.
The weight of the bed shifts as Jacob climbs onto it, draping himself over the mound that is you beneath the blanket. When he pulls the blankets down to expose your face, you let out a grumpy whine.
“Babe, you gotta wake up,” Jacob coos, pressing his lips together in a cute pout that you can barely make out in your sleepy state. “Don’t you want to spend the day with me?”
All you can manage is a grumble, fumbling to pull the blankets back over your face and nestle down further. “Go to practice Jake, let me stay here where it’s warm.”
Jacob frowns down at the mound that is you. “They called off practice today. You really get to spend the day with me.” From beneath the blankets, you let out a hmph of acknowledgement, too tired to formulate foggy thoughts into coherent words.
“Are you cold?” Jacob wonders, tugging at the blanket again. You let out a much louder whine this time—absolute refusal to leave the bed. As soon as Jacob had opened the curtains, a cold had permeated the apartment, made up almost entirely of tile and wood floors. “Wait, love, let me fix it,” he murmurs softly, soothingly.
Somehow, just that shift in his voice is enough to convince you to ease up. Your muscles are sluggish and heavy, anyway. But Jacob has always had a way with words and knowing the correct tone to use—even with the rest of his members, his soft and sweet voice was like honey engulfing the bad, diffusing any negativity.
Jacob immediately crawls underneath the duvet once you ease up, pulling the blankets back over you and pulling you close to his chest. Recognizing his warmth, you let out a hum of content from the back of your throat and nuzzle closer into the large hoodie he wears, breathing in his scent and immediately melding into his warmth. Jacob’s hands snake around your frame, pulling you closer.
“We can spend the day like this, if you’d like,” he murmurs softly, fingers dancing along your spine and tracing soothing circles at your back.
“Just let me sleep another hour since you’re home for me to enjoy it. The bed always feels empty without you.”
“Sounds good, love,” he murmurs, a hum of content escaping from the back of Jacob’s own throat this time, one of agreement. He has to agree that the bed often feels empty, with how much time he spends away and how much time the two of you spend sleeping only with the intentions to catch up on sleep itself, not cuddle or enjoy each other’s company.
Just as the rain picks up outside, the light morning drizzle increasing into something a little heavier, Jacob kisses kisses the top of your head, before moving down to kiss your temple, and then your forehead, cheek, the tip of your nose—pausing only momentarily to rub his own nose against yours in an Eskimo kiss before he’s softly kissing you, sweet little pecks, over and over for you to drown in.
You become dizzy with Jacob’s tender kisses and the sound of the morning spring rain outside overtaking your thoughts like white noise, both of the two things lulling you into a state of content that has you feeling fuzzy and overly happy; euphoric.
