My eyes open slowly, a feeling of peace washing over me repeatedly as the sunlight blinds me. I yawn silently and sit up to look around the room. Like usual, Dash is right next to me, half of his face buried into the pillow. His chest rises and falls at a steady pace. A pair of black handcuffs catch my eye, and then that's when it sets in for me what happened last night.

I got in trouble for disrespecting Dash.

Man, I really got it last night. Sheesh. My entire body aches in a way that makes me feel every single moment of last night's "lesson." My wrists are sore, probably from the handcuffs, and my thighs burn, likely from being pinned down for so long. Heat creeps up my face as my memories flash like a slideshow—Dash's low growls, his firm grip, the way he made sure I knew exactly why I was in trouble. God, how did it escalate like that? I mean, I knew I crossed a line when I called him "too overprotective," but I didn't think it would lead to…well, that. My stomach flips when I glance at him again, still sleeping like a serene, golden statue. It's almost maddening how peaceful he looks right now. I fight the urge to groan because of course he's completely fine after everything. Meanwhile, I'm sore, exhausted, and feeling a confusing mix of embarrassment and satisfaction.

I look down at my wrists, rubbing at the faint red marks there. "Noted…" I mumble under my breath. "Never disrespect him ever again."

The black handcuffs catch my eye again, sitting innocently on the nightstand like a trophy or a warning. My cheeks flush harder as I try not to think about the sound they made clicking into place or how Dash's voice had dipped into that unrelenting tone that made me shiver all over. Damn it, I need to stop thinking about this. My body reacts way too easily. I glance toward the window, sunlight spilling in and warming the room. It feels too bright, too cheerful for the weight of what lingers in my chest. Last night wasn't just about the…physicality. It was about what it meant. Dash wasn't just being possessive for the sake of it. He was reminding me of something deeper—that he cares about me in ways I'm still trying to wrap my head around. His overprotectiveness isn't just some flaw or quirk; it's how he shows love, even when I don't fully understand it.

Still, part of me wants to challenge him. I mean, we've talked about boundaries before, and yet here we are. I bite my lip, debating whether or not I should wake him up and confront him about it now. But as I watch his chest rise and fall, the thought slips away. Maybe later.

For now, I just want to process everything. I swing my legs over the edge of the bed and wince at the soreness in my thighs. Great. I shuffle toward the bathroom, avoiding looking at myself in the mirror because I already know my face is flushed. Deeply flushed. After splashing cold water on my face, I stare at the faucet, lost in thought. Last night might've been intense, but it also left me with this undeniable sense of safety. As overwhelming as Dash can be, he always makes sure I'm okay—physically, emotionally, everything.

I shake my head, stepping out of the bathroom. Dash is still asleep, his dirty blonde hair messily covering his eyes. Despite everything, I can't help but smile. The guy can go from the most dominant, commanding presence in the room to looking like a literal puppy when he's asleep. It's infuriatingly endearing. I grab my phone from the nightstand, careful not to wake him. There's a text from Mikey asking if I survived the night. Barely, I type back, resisting the urge to overshare. Sean's sent a string of memes, all ghost-themed, as if that's my entire personality. I roll my eyes and toss the phone back down, my gaze drifting back to Dash. For a moment, my eyes lock onto him. The sunlight makes his skin glow, and I can't help but feel lucky—lucky that someone like him cares about me as much as he does, even if his ways of showing it are…intense. I sigh, leaning back against the headboard, my body still buzzing with a mix of soreness and warmth. Last night might've been a lot, but it was also a reminder. A reminder that Dash isn't just my overprotective best friend or the guy I've had a crush on for way too long. He's the person who sees me—really sees me—even when I'm too stubborn to admit it. And as much as I hate to admit it, maybe I needed the reminder.

Shortly after, I see him start to stir awake. He doesn't move from his position, and doesn't open his eyes. All he does is say one word, sleepily.

"Danny?"

"Yes, Dashi?"

A smile forms on his face, and he speaks again. "Good morning."

I can't help but smile in response. "Morning, baby. You don't mind if I snuggle under your arm, do you?"

He opened his eyes slightly before closing them. "Of course not, baby boy. Come here."

I get back under the comforter next to Dash, and after snuggling under his arm, I rest my head on his chest and listen to his heartbeat. All I can do is smile and close my eyes as his heart steadily beats like a drum. For a few minutes, it's silent. It's nothing but pure silence. Not a weird silence, but one that is peaceful. It is understood, yet unspoken.

Then, Dash's voice quietly pierces the silence, softer than I remember.

"Have I ever told you… how pretty you are, Danny?" He asks while lightly and unconsciously stroking my hair.

"A few times, Dashi… why?"

"Well…"

His voice trails off, and I lift my head just enough to look at him. His eyes are still closed, his expression soft and unreadable. But I know Dash. He's thinking about something—something deep enough that he isn't sure if he wants to say it out loud just yet. Even when he's half asleep, I can't stop gushing over Dash. He just knows what to do, when to do it, and how to do it. I can't get enough of him.

Dash exhales a slow, steady breath, his fingers still tracing through my hair in a lazy rhythm. His heartbeat beneath my ear is steady, but there's something in the way he holds me, the way he hesitates, that makes me think he's about to say something he normally wouldn't.

"Well…"

He starts again, but his voice is even quieter this time, almost like he's still thinking it through.

I tilt my head up slightly, waiting for him to continue. His lips part, then close again. A faint furrow forms between his brows, like he's debating whether or not to even say it.

"What is it, baby?" I prompt softly, pressing my palm against his chest.

He shifts slightly, then finally lets out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head against the pillow. "It's just… you make me feel so calm, you know?"

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah." His voice is still groggy, his eyes ever so slightly open as he speaks. "Like… before you, I don't think I ever really let myself be like this with anyone. Not even close. I never thought I could be, but that's because I had to be tough all the time. I had to be the guy who never lets anyone see him crack. But with you…"

His arm tightens around me just slightly, pulling me closer.

"With you, I want to be calm."

Something in my chest flutters at his words. I press my face back into his skin, feeling the warmth of his body. "You don't have to be tough with me, Dashi. You never have to be."

"I know, baby. That's the thing. You don't just make me want to be calm… you make me feel safe being calm."

My throat tightens slightly at that. Dash, the star athlete, the confident, cocky guy that everyone sees on the field—no one else gets this side of him. The quiet, sleepy, vulnerable side. The side that craves touch, that whispers sweet things in the early morning, that holds onto me like I'm something precious.

I shift, pressing a light kiss to his collarbone. "Good, because I like you when you're like this. Even if you did put me through hell last night."

Dash lets out a low laugh at that, the vibrations rumbling against my cheek. "Mm, I told you not to test me."

I groan, burying my face into his chest again. "Yeah, yeah. I learned my lesson, alright?"

"Did you, ghost boy?" He teases, his fingers grazing lightly down my back, making me shiver.

I grumble under my breath, feeling my face heat up all over again. He knows exactly what he's doing. Cocky son of a bitch.

Dash chuckles and closes his eyes again, but the teasing fades into something more tender. His hand slides back up to my hair, stroking it with an absentminded gentleness. "I meant what I said though, Danny. You're pretty. Really pretty. Like a Prince."

I bite my lip, my heart thudding a little harder in my chest. "I think you're pretty too, Dashi."

He snickers at that, his chest shaking slightly beneath me. "Hey. I'm handsome, Danny."

"Nope." I argue, grinning against his skin. "You're pretty. You're my pretty King."

Dash lets out a fake dramatic sigh. "Fine. I guess I'll allow it."

I laugh softly, curling into him even more, feeling the warmth of his body completely surround me. Moments like this, where it's just us, where there's nothing else in the world but his heartbeat and his warmth and the quiet safety of his arms—I could stay in this forever.

Dash presses a slow, lingering kiss to the top of my head. "I love you, baby. So much." He sighs against my hair.

I close my eyes, letting the words sink in, wrapping around me like another blanket.

"I love you too, Dashi."

As I lay here, wrapped up in Dash's arms, my thoughts drift—back to where it all started, back to the first time I ever saw him.

We were kids then. Just two boys who barely knew what life had in store for us. I remember looking up at him on the playground, watching as he climbed the monkey bars with ease, like he was born to stand above the rest. Even then, he had this presence, this energy—like a star that burned brighter than anything else around it. And me? I was just a kid who didn't know what to do with the way I felt about him.

Then came the years that made me hate Dash. The years where he was untouchable, unreachable, and I was just another name on his list of easy targets. The bullying, the taunts, the shoves in the hallway—I hated him for a long time. Or at least, I thought I did. But deep down, even as I cursed his name, there was always a small part of me that wondered why. Why he was always singling me out. Why his eyes consistently lingered just a little longer on me than anyone else. Why, even after all the hurt, I couldn't stop seeing him.

Junior year changed everything. It was like something finally cracked open between us, revealing what was always there, hidden beneath all the years of pretending. Somewhere between the fights, the tension, and the unspoken words, we stopped hating each other. And once we stopped, we never looked back. And as far as senior year goes, well… let's just say that our first kiss was a precursor to where we are now.

After graduating, becoming his roommate in college was just the next step. If someone had told me back then that I'd end up here, in his arms, tangled up in his warmth, completely and utterly his, I would have laughed in their face. But now? Now it's the most natural thing in the world.

Dash shifts slightly in his sleep, tightening his hold on me, like even in his dreams, he refuses to let me go.

I smile against his chest, pressing a sleepy kiss to his skin.

It's interesting how life works, really. The person I once resented, the person I thought I could never forgive, is now the person I can't live without. How enemies can become something more. How love can bloom from the most unexpected places.

And as I drift off, curled up next to none other than my pretty King—the star athlete himself—I realize something.

Every fight, every argument, every moment of doubt led us here.

This moment.

Me, curled up next to him. The same guy who used to relentlessly torment me is now the one person I can't imagine my life without. The same guy who made my high school days hell is now the one who holds me like I'm something precious.

"I love you." He whispers again.

"I love you more."

Yeah. He's mine. And I'm his.

So, as I'm here next to him, I know one thing for certain:

I wouldn't change a damn thing.