5 (bliss)

North POV

I woke up squirming, adjusting to the soft glow of morning light spilling through the curtains.A quiet groan slipped past my lips as I squeezed my eyes shut again.

It was too early.Far too early for someone like me to be awake.

My fingers brushed against Johan’s arm—the same arm that had been draped securely around my waist all night. His hold was steady, warm, grounding in a way that made me want to stay like this forever.

I let my hand wander down to his fingers, tracing the shape of them lightly before I began to fiddle with them absentmindedly—hooking my pinky with his, pressing my thumb against his knuckles. Anything to keep from thinking about how my chest felt strangely full.

Finally, I shifted slowly, careful not to wake him, and turned to face him.

He was still asleep.

It had been so long since I woke up to Johan like this—still, peaceful, unaware. His lashes cast soft shadows against his skin, his lips slightly parted, and his hair was a mess, strands falling haphazardly across his forehead in a way that almost made him look… boyish.

I stared for a little longer than I should have. And before I knew it, a sulky pout tugged at my lips.

Without thinking, I buried my face against his chest, inhaling deeply. He smelled like the faint spice of his cologne, warm skin, and something that was just… him. My arms tightened around his waist, selfish and wanting, even if it was just for a few seconds more.

Then, I felt it—his fingers moving gently through my hair, slow and unhurried, as if they had all the time in the world.

My heart nearly melted right there.

I tilted my head up, and sure enough, sleepy eyes were looking back at me—soft, heavy-lidded, and carrying that quiet calm only Johan could have.

His gaze held mine for a long, quiet moment, like he was still trying to piece together the edges of his dream and reality. Then, slowly, the corner of his mouth curved into the faintest smile.

“You’re awake early,” his voice was rough with sleep, low and warm, curling around me like a blanket.

I huffed softly, still pressed against his chest. “The light woke me up,” I mumbled, like it was the sun’s fault I was sulking.

“Mm.” His fingers slid lazily through my hair again, combing out a few stubborn tangles with such patience it made my throat tighten. “And now what? Planning to glare at me until I wake up fully?”

I puffed my cheeks, refusing to answer. That only earned me a quiet chuckle from him—a sound so soft, so real, that I felt it vibrate against my cheek.

“Brat,” he murmured, his hand leaving my hair only to graze along the side of my neck. Before I could protest, his fingers suddenly danced across my ribs in a light, teasing motion.

“J-Johan!” I squeaked, jerking in surprise, clutching at his shirt. “What are you—hey!”

His laugh deepened, still low but richer now, as if my reaction alone was worth waking up for. “What? You think you can cling to me and pout without consequences?” His tone was so casual, but his fingers didn’t stop—they traced over every ticklish spot they could find, relentless but never harsh.

“Stop! I-I’m serious—!” My words dissolved into laughter as I squirmed in his hold, kicking weakly, trying to push him away. It was useless. His arm stayed firm around my waist, keeping me close as if letting go wasn’t even an option.

“Hmm, no,” he said softly, almost like he was enjoying a secret only he knew. His eyes never left my face—watching every twitch of my smile, every breathless laugh spilling out of me. There was something in that look… something warm, unguarded, like sunlight slipping through clouds.

Finally, when I was breathless and limp against him, he eased up, his fingers slowing to a gentle trace over my sides. “There,” he said, like he’d accomplished something important. “Much better than that pout.”

I lay there, chest rising and falling, cheeks flushed from laughing too hard, and managed a weak glare up at him. “You’re evil,” I muttered, my voice small against the steady thud of his heart.

His lips quirked, and before I could blink, he leaned down—just enough for his forehead to rest against mine. His breath was soft when he spoke.

“Maybe,” he murmured, his voice so gentle it made my stomach flip. “But only with you.”

And then, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, he pulled me closer, tucking me securely under his chin, his arms tightening around me like he was afraid the morning light might steal me away.

I let out a small sigh, melting into the warmth of him.

We stayed tangled in each other’s arms for what felt like an eternity—or maybe just a few quiet minutes suspended outside of time. The world beyond the curtains didn’t matter; not the sunlight slipping across the sheets, not the campus waiting miles away. Just this: his arms heavy and sure around me, his heartbeat a steady thrum under my ear.

Then, his voice broke through the silence—rough and low, still laced with sleep.

“Okay,” Johan murmured, giving my waist a light squeeze before pulling back slightly, “time to get up. You’ve got class. I’ll drop you off.”

I blinked up at him, disoriented by the sudden shift. “You’re not coming?”

He was already swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, muscles shifting beneath his t-shirt like it was the most natural thing in the world to tear away from this warmth. “No. I have work.”

Work. Of course. Always work with him. My brows knit, a tiny frown tugging at my lips. “But… won’t that affect your grades, phi?” I couldn’t keep the concern out of my voice.

His answer was so calm, so final, it made something tighten in my chest. “I’ve already talked to the director,” he said simply, then reached over and pinched my cheek like I was some sulky kid. “Don’t worry about me.”

I bit down on the inside of my cheek, lips pressing into a thin line. “Umm,” I muttered, because what else could I say?

“What’s wrong?” His tone was easy, casual—but his gaze lingered on me a second too long.

“Nothing,” I lied, too quickly, staring down at the crumpled sheets like they might swallow me whole.

“Mm.” He didn’t push. He never did. Just stood there with that unreadable calm until, finally, he tilted his head toward the adjoining bathroom. “Then go shower.”

And then—just like that—he moved away. His warmth slipped from my skin, leaving behind only cool air that prickled like tiny needles. I sat there frozen for a second, staring at the space where he’d been. My body felt oddly heavy, my mood darker than I wanted to admit.

I watched him walk toward his dresser, movements unhurried, precise. He grabbed a fresh black shirt, the fabric stretching across his shoulders in a way that made my throat go dry. He didn’t even glance at me, like last night—like waking up tangled together—meant nothing.

I didn’t know why that stung so much.

My frown deepened as I hugged the blanket tighter around me, trying to shake off the pathetic twist in my chest.

Then he stopped. Turned halfway, looking at me with an expression that was way too calm for the words that came out next.

“Or…” His brows arched slightly. “Do you want to shower with me?”

My entire brain short-circuited.

“What—?!” Heat exploded across my cheeks so fast it almost hurt. “N-No!” I scrambled out of bed, the blanket tangling around my legs as I practically tripped on my own dignity. “I’ll—I’ll shower by myself!”

His mouth curved—just a little. That faint, dangerous smirk that made my heart do things it really shouldn’t. “Relax, Shorty. Just asking.” His voice was lazy, but his eyes… God, his eyes weren’t lazy at all. They were sharp. Watching. Like he could read every frantic thought racing through my head.

I bolted into the bathroom before I could humiliate myself further, slamming the door behind me with a little too much force.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

✿✿✿⁠ 

“Take care, phi,” I said softly as I pushed the door open, stepping out of the car.

Johan’s eyes flicked toward me—dark, steady, unreadable except for the smallest curve of his lips. A smile so faint, so brief, it felt almost like a secret. And then he shifted gears, the low growl of his engine trailing behind him as the sleek black car disappeared down the sunlit road.

For a moment, I just stood there on the pavement, staring after him like an idiot. My fingers tightened on the strap of my bag, reluctant to move, reluctant to break whatever strange spell lingered in the air.

The sharp buzz of my phone pulled me back to reality.

(Long-limbed demon)

I kept a boba tea in your bag. Drink it before it spills all over your notes.

I blinked at the screen. Then, slowly, the corners of my mouth curled up—soft at first, then wider, until I was smiling so hard it almost hurt.

My sweet grumpy lizard.

The words slipped out in a whisper before I could stop them. My chest felt lighter, warmer, like the morning sun had crawled under my skin.

Speaking of which—the sun was shining so brightly it painted the campus paths in gold, and for once, I didn’t hate it. My mood, which had been a tangled mess just an hour ago, now felt like someone had gently untied the knots one by one.

As I adjusted the strap of my bag, my fingers brushed against the cool band of silver on my ring finger. I glanced down. The ring caught the sunlight and gleamed, almost smugly—as if it knew exactly whose hands had slipped it on me in a moment I couldn’t stop replaying in my head.

Before I knew it, I was smiling again.

Maybe a little too much for someone who was supposed to be on their way to a boring morning lecture.

I didn’t care.

Humming under my breath, I tightened my grip on my bag—the one carrying the stupidly thoughtful surprise from a certain long-limbed demon—and practically skipped down the path toward my class.

For once, the day didn’t feel ordinary.