Sleepyhead

                                    

                                          
Mumbo pov 
I woke up dazed, the soft haze of early morning filtering through my half-drawn curtains. A faint golden light seeped into the room, painting the edges of furniture with a muted glow as the sun began its hesitant ascent into the sky. The air was still, thick with the calm that only dawn can bring, interrupted only by the distant hum of a bird outside my window.
Blinking, I looked around my small apartment. Everything was quiet, save for the faint creak of the old ceiling fan turning lazily overhead. My gaze drifted toward the couch, where he lay sprawled out, his chest rising and falling rhythmically in sleep. One arm was slung over his face, and the other clutched Grumbot like it was a lifeline, the little stuffed figure looking oddly out of place in the grasp of someone so effortlessly composed even while unconscious.
The light played tricks across his features, softening the sharper edges. His hair was tousled, catching stray beams of the rising sun, and his expression was unguarded, peaceful. The room smelled faintly of coffee grounds left out from the night before and the faint scent of rain lingering from yesterday's storm.
I let my head fall back against the pillow, a smile tugging at the corner of my lips. For a moment, I let myself bask in the tranquility of the scene. The day could wait-this small, fleeting moment felt too perfect to disturb.
I listened to the world waking up around us, the soft rustle of leaves brushing against the windowpane and the distant chirping of birds announcing the morning. The hum of early traffic barely reached my ears, muffled by the cocoon of quiet within the apartment. The air felt cool and crisp, carrying the faint promise of a new day.
But I couldn't bring myself to move. The warmth of the blanket cocooning me felt like a tether to this fragile moment, as if shifting too quickly might shatter it. I stayed curled up, watching him sleep from the corner of my eye, his hand still gripping Grumbot like a child with a favorite toy.
A part of me was scared-terrified, really-that if I stirred, I'd wake to find myself alone again. That this wasn't real. That he wasn't real. So I stayed put, holding my breath as though the act of breathing too loudly might break the spell. For now, it didn't matter if this was a dream or reality. He was here, and I wasn't ready to lose him again.
The peaceful silence was broken by the sudden, chirpy alarm of Grumbot, the little stuffed figure springing to life with its usual cheery tone.
"Good morning! Time to wake up! Rise and shine!" it beeped, far too enthusiastically for the soft glow of the early morning.
He jolted awake, eyes snapping open in alarm as he sat up quickly, clutching Grumbot to his chest like he was under attack. I couldn't stop the grin that spread across my face as he groggily registered the noise. With a groan, he lightly smacked Grumbot on the top of its head, muttering, "Shhh, buddy... not now..." before slumping back into the couch.
The sheer absurdity of the scene had me laughing before I could stop myself, the sound spilling into the quiet room like sunlight breaking through clouds. He cracked one eye open, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips.
"Glad my suffering amuses you," he mumbled, his voice gravelly with sleep. That only made me laugh harder, and for a moment, the weight of reality didn't matter.
Still half-asleep, he shuffled off the couch, dragging the pillow with him as if it were some mighty weapon. I barely had time to react before he reached my bed, raised the pillow, and smacked me in the face with it.
"Hey!" I yelped, caught between surprise and laughter.
He didn't respond right away, just flopped down next to me with a dramatic sigh, burying his face in the pillow he'd just used to assault me. "So noisy, Mr. Jumbo," he mumbled, his voice muffled and pouty.