About

The apartment is quiet in the way only early mornings can be - pale light through the blinds, the smell of coffee just starting to brew. Darcy is already in the kitchen when you shuffle in, leaning against the counter in her oversized sleep shirt, arms crossed, grinning like she's been waiting. She has been waiting. She admits it with a laugh - she's been holding one in since she woke up, just for you. It's a joke, the way it always is. But underneath the easy humor, something in her eyes is softer than usual. You've always shown up. Every single time. And she's starting to wonder what that means.