Sometimes, it's hard to wake him up. It was one of those nights, where his earliest alarm rang two hours again before the sun could even rise. I wriggled out of his arms groggily just to turn off all his other remaining alarms that would disturb him. Sleep better and don't worry, my dear. That's why I'm here with you, to wake you up, I thought, as I looked at his calm countenance. He was a man whose stature towered over me, with arms so strong, that I struggled to put them around me as I laid back in bed next to him. His breathing was quick and shallow; he was in the midst of a dream. I wondered what was going on in his head. Or was it because I was right beside him? I hate assuming, but hope surges through me like how I could feel his built through his plain white tee.

All of a sudden, his voice, like cold coffee in the morning and warm milk at night, refreshed the moment of my ambiguous soliloquy. "Why are you awake? Get back to sleep. I'll wake you later." He pulled me closer to him and rested his cheek against my hair.

I could only internally laugh at his statement and at his pouted face when he whispered the words in my ticklish ear. How could he, the one who has troubles with waking up, tell me that? God, I love this man so much. He wants the best for me, but I know he deserves the best all the more. For now, let him sleep peacefully, protect him and keep him safe in my embrace. And hopefully both of us will wake up at the same time.