Chapter 22

Win Metawin

The morning light spills into the room, casting a soft glow over everything. I stretch, blinking away the last remnants of sleep as I sit up. Beside me, Dew is still fast asleep, his face relaxed, his breathing even. Peaceful. It's rare to see him like this—so still, so quiet. Usually, he's all noise, all energy, filling every space with his presence. But right now, he looks... different.

I watch him for a moment before carefully slipping out of bed, making sure not to wake him. My body feels heavy with sleep, and I know I need a shower to wake up properly.

The warm water runs over my skin, steam curling around me as I let myself sink into the moment. Last night lingers in my mind—his warmth, his quiet confession, the way he held onto me even in his sleep. A small smile tugs at my lips before I shake it off.

Once I'm freshened up, I head to the kitchen, tying my bangs up lazily. I don't have a plan for breakfast, but I open the fridge anyway, scanning for ingredients. Something simple should be fine.

Eggs, toast, fruit. I set everything on the counter, moving on autopilot as I crack the eggs into a pan. The soft sizzle fills the quiet space, the scent of butter and toast slowly spreading through the room. It's peaceful. Just me, the warmth of the stove, and the quiet hum of the world waking up.

Then, I feel it.

A familiar warmth presses against my back, solid and steady. Arms wrap lazily around my waist, a heavy weight settling against my shoulder.

"Why didn't you wake me up..."

His voice is thick with sleep, muffled slightly as he buries his face into the fabric of my shirt.

I smirk, flipping the last egg onto a plate before turning the heat off. "You looked too peaceful. And I didn't want to deal with your grumpy morning self."

He groans dramatically, his grip tightening around me. "Still should've woken me up," he mutters, voice rough from sleep, breath warm against my skin.

I glance over my shoulder, catching sight of him—hair messy, eyes barely open, face soft in the early morning light. He looks like he's still dreaming, body slack against mine, completely unbothered by the fact that we're literally standing in the middle of the kitchen like this.

"You're still asleep right now," I tease.

"M'not," he protests weakly, though he doesn't move an inch.

I shake my head, biting back a small smile. "You're like a baby koala clinging to a tree."

Dew hums in response, not even denying it, just nuzzling closer. "Mmm. 'Cause you're warm."

I sigh, pretending to be annoyed, but my heart betrays me with the way it stumbles a little. This idiot.

"Alright, if you're up, make yourself useful and set the table," I say, nudging him lightly with my elbow.

He groans again, but this time he finally loosens his grip. "Fine. But only 'cause I love you."

I roll my eyes, but the smile on my lips is impossible to hide.

"Yeah, yeah. Go."

Dew stretches, rubbing at his eyes as he shuffles toward the dining table, still half-asleep. He moves lazily, dragging his feet, muttering something under his breath about how he was having a good dream before I abandoned him in bed.

I shake my head, finishing up the last of breakfast, plating everything neatly before bringing it over. He's already seated, arms folded on the table, head resting on them like he might pass out again.

"Dew," I warn.

He peeks up at me, lips curling into a sleepy grin. "Feed me."

I let out a dramatic sigh. "You have hands."

"But it tastes better when you do it," he argues, giving me that look—the one that always, always gets to me.

I shake my head but still pick up a piece of toast, holding it out. "Last time."

Dew immediately leans forward, taking a bite, his eyes lighting up. "Mmm. 'Kay, maybe I love you a little extra today."

I huff out a laugh, shaking my head. "You're impossible."

His grin widens, and he scoots his chair closer, resting his chin on his hand as he watches me eat. It's quiet for a moment, but not the uncomfortable kind. Just warmth, just us.

Then, out of nowhere, he says it.

"I love you."

Soft, casual, like it's the easiest thing in the world to say.

I nearly choke on my fruit. "What—"

Dew just grins, reaching over to steal a piece from my bowl like he didn't just drop those three words out of nowhere. "What? I say it all the time."

"Yeah, but—" I clear my throat, feeling my ears burn. I glance away, stabbing a piece of melon with unnecessary aggression. "You caught me off guard."

His smile softens, and for a second, he looks at me like I'm the only thing that exists. It's a little overwhelming, the way he does that, the way he loves so freely, so easily.

He leans in, pressing a quick kiss to my lips before murmuring, "Well, get used to it."

And just like that, I feel my heart stumble all over again.

-----------------

Dew is moving slower than a damn sloth.

I'm already dressed, bag slung over my shoulder, standing by the door, waiting. Meanwhile, he's lounging in bed again after we had breakfast, scrolling through his phone like we don't have places to be.

"Dew," I call, arms crossed.

"Mmm."

That's it. No movement, no urgency, not even a glance in my direction. Just a lazy hum, like I didn't just say his name with my full chest.

I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Are you seriously not ready yet?"

"I am ready." He stretches his arms above his head, still in his damn pajamas.

"You're in a T-shirt and boxers."

"And?" He finally looks up, raising a brow. "I think I look great."

I inhale slowly. "Dew. Get dressed."

Dew makes a dramatic groaning noise before finally sitting up, rubbing his eyes. He drags himself out of bed like it physically pains him to move, stretching again like he just ran a marathon. Then—just to piss me off, I know it—he moves at the slowest possible pace, shuffling to the closet with all the urgency of a cloud drifting across the sky.

I narrow my eyes. "You're doing this on purpose."

Dew smirks, pulling a shirt from a hanger at a speed that could be classified as glacial. "What? I'm just taking my time. Can't rush perfection."

"Oh my god." I drop my bag, already done with this. "Hurry up!"

Dew laughs, throwing the shirt over his shoulder and grabbing a pair of jeans. "You're so impatient, babe."

I don't dignify that with a response, just glare at him as he continues to move like a video buffering at 144p. He's about to unbutton his pajama top when I've officially had enough.

"That's it."

I lunge.

Dew yelps, dodging at the last second, but I'm faster. He barely takes a step before I grab his waist from behind, dragging him toward the bed.

"Win!" He's laughing now, trying to pry my hands off, but I don't let go. "I was gonna change!"

"At this pace, we'd be late for our own wedding," I shoot back, wrestling him onto the mattress.

He grins up at me, hair a mess, cheeks slightly flushed from all the dodging. "Is that an official proposal?"

I freeze for half a second.

Dew, being Dew, takes full advantage and flips us over so now he's the one hovering over me, all smug and victorious.

"Dew—"

"Aw, babe, don't get shy now," he teases, tapping my cheek. "You wanna marry me that bad?"

I deadpan. "I wanna throw you out the window."

He gasps dramatically, pressing a hand over his heart. "So violent."

"You bring it out of me."

Dew laughs again, a real one, before finally rolling off me and sitting up properly. "Fine, fine. I'll get dressed before you have a meltdown."

I shake my head, still lying there as he finally, finally starts changing at a normal speed.

A few minutes later, when he's struggling to fix his collar, I sigh and walk over, reaching for it without thinking. I straighten it for him, fingers brushing against his skin lightly.

Dew's watching me now, suddenly quiet.

I glance up. "What?"

He just stares for a second before smiling—smaller this time, softer. "Nothing."

I roll my eyes but feel my ears warm up. "Let's go before I regret planning this date."

"Too late, love," he singsongs, grabbing my hand and swinging it as we finally head out.