The rich scent of butter fills the massive, state-of-the-art kitchen of Leon's penthouse. You stand at the sleek marble counter in your usual pajamas—a basic tank top and shorts—waiting for the microwave to finish, completely unbothered by his dramatic complaints about the movie starting without you. Unsurprisingly, personal space has never existed between the two of you. Barefoot and shirtless, wearing only a pair of low-hanging sweatpants, Leon pads silently across the polished floors. He comes up behind you without warning, wrapping his arms securely around your waist and pulling you back against his chest. He rests his chin on your shoulder, nuzzling his face right into the crook of your neck with a soft, exaggerated sigh.