Enzo

His family — Lockwood
Mother — Elena Lockwood
Patient, observant, and very protective of her children. She always knows when he's too tired, even if he tries to hide it.
Father — Victor Lockwood
Serious and reserved, but reliable. He taught her to keep going despite narcolepsy.
Younger sister — Lily Lockwood (23 years old)
Extroverted, sarcastic, and very talkative. She loves teasing him for falling asleep anywhere.
Younger brother — Noah Lockwood (20 years old)
Relaxed and friendly. He greatly admires his older brother, although he doesn't say so directly.
Her family — Smith
Mother — Claire Smith
Affectionate and warm. She has treated him like another son for years.
Father — Daniel Smith
He's a joker and sociable. He always tries to include him in family conversations.
Older brother — Ethan Smith (26 years old)
Protective and somewhat intimidating at first, but he ended up getting along well with him.
Younger sister — Sophie Smith (24 years old)
Energetic and curious. She has a habit of taking pictures of him while he's sleeping to tease him later.
Family dynamics
Both families are used to him falling asleep at gatherings, on sofas, or even at tables after meals. And although he's still quiet, everyone notices that when he's with her he seems much calmer and more at peace.

She would straighten his jacket when he fell asleep sitting up. She would send him text messages to remind him to eat. She would stroke his hair when he woke up disoriented after an involuntary nap.
And he, who had always lived feeling like a problem, finally understood something thanks to her:
Being loved didn't mean being perfect. It just meant that someone chose to stay even on the tough days.
So he began to make it up to her in his own way.
Making her coffee before she woke up. Waiting for her whenever I could. Listening to her talk for hours even when I was exhausted. Holding her hand whenever she seemed too stressed.
Because if she was the place where he could rest…
He wanted to be the place where she could feel safe.

By age 27, he had already learned to live with narcolepsy.

Or at least, to pretend that he controlled it.

He kept falling asleep in absurd places: on the sofa with his coffee still in his hand, in the car while she bought something quick, even sitting in front of the computer after insisting too much that "he wasn't sleepy yet".

And she, at 26, could already notice it before he did.

I watched as her movements slowed down. As she began to lose track of the conversations. As her eyes remained still for a few seconds longer than usual.

Then he would simply say:

—Come here.

And he already knew it was time to get some sleep.

Their relationship eventually adapted around that without it seeming like a burden.

She learned to carry extra snacks and coffee "just in case." He learned to accept help without feeling useless.

There were bad days, of course.

Days when he felt frustrated because he had to cancel plans due to exhaustion. Days when he woke up confused and annoyed with himself. Days when he felt she deserved someone "easier."

But she never allowed him to get too caught up in those thoughts.

One morning he woke up on the sofa, still half asleep, and found her working at the nearby table.

"What time is it...?" he murmured.

—Two in the morning.

He rubbed his eyes slowly.

—I fell asleep again.

She looked up.

—Yes, genius. That's literally your condition.

He let out a tired laugh.

After so many years together, she no longer treated narcolepsy as something delicate or awkward. It was simply part of him, just like his dry humor or his obsession with drinking terrible coffee.

Sometimes they even joked about it.

—If I disappear, check any flat surface. I'm probably asleep there.

-Noted.

What surprised him most was that she never seemed to tire of taking care of him.

Not in an exaggerated way. Not like a nurse. But in small details.

—Yes. Quite a bit.
He remained silent for a few seconds.
Then he took her hand slowly, as if he were afraid of doing it wrong.
—I think I love you too much.
She let out a soft laugh.
—How romantic.
—I'm tired, don't expect long speeches.
—Then you'll have to make up for it by staying with me for a long time.
And for the first time in a very long time, he felt that perhaps resting wasn't just falling asleep.
Perhaps it was about being by someone's side and not feeling the need to carry the world alone.

Their relationship began so quietly that neither of them knew exactly when it happened.

They simply… began to belong to each other's routine.

She started saving a seat for him on the train. He began buying her favorite coffee without asking. They texted each other at absurd hours of the night, about anything and everything: songs, things they hated, silly stories that only made sense to them.

And little by little, she became the only place where he didn't feel exhausted all the time.

One night it was raining hard and the station was almost empty. He sat on a bench, his eyes heavy, trying to stay awake while he waited for the storm to pass.

She arrived a few minutes later, soaked and complaining about the weather.

—I think the universe hates me.

He let out a small laugh.

—That would explain a lot of things.

She sat down next to him and began talking about something that had happened in class, gesturing with her hands as she spoke. He watched her silently, more focused on her voice than her words.

And then it happened.

Without realizing it, he began to fall asleep.

His head slowly tilted until it rested on her shoulder.

When she reacted, she tried to move away immediately.

—I'm sorry, I…

—Shut up for a second.

He remained still.

She adjusted her head more firmly against his shoulder as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

—You can rest for a while.

And something inside him broke a little because of that.

Because all her life she had felt like a nuisance. A problem. Someone difficult to deal with.

But she never looked at him that way.

After several minutes of silence, he spoke in a low, tired voice.

Why are you so nice to me?

It took her a moment to answer.

—Because I love you, idiot.

He slowly opened his eyes.

The rain continued to pound the station's roof as he stared at her, unsure what to make of those words.

—…Do you love me?

She barely smiled, now nervous.

After that, he began to look for her without admitting it.
He would sit where he could see her. He would bring her coffee, even if he pretended it was by chance. And he began to sleep better on the days he talked to her.
The strange thing was that she never treated her narcolepsy as something unusual.
If he fell asleep, she simply waited. If he was too tired to talk, she filled the silence with absurd stories. And when he became frustrated with himself, she acted as if the world wasn't ending because of it.
One night, as the city lights twinkled beneath the rooftop, he suddenly said:
—I don't understand why you keep getting closer to me.
She stopped drawing.
—Because with you, silence feels peaceful.
He looked down for a few seconds.
And for the first time in a very long time… he didn't feel tired of existing.

The first time they spoke was on a rooftop
Not because either of them was particularly sociable, but because they both had a habit of disappearing when the noise of the university became unbearable.
He would go up there to sleep for a few minutes without anyone bothering him.
She, to draw
That afternoon the sky was cloudy and the wind gently stirred the loose leaves she had arranged around her. He didn't even notice her at first. He simply walked to the shade by the wall, placed his backpack on the ground, and sat down with a hand over his eyes.
Tired. Again.
She looked up from her notebook for barely a second.
—Do you know you look like a tired stray cat?
He slowly opened one eye, clearly confused by the comment.
-…That?
"Whenever someone is sad, they look tense. You just look like you need to sleep for eight years."
He let out a small, nasal laugh involuntarily. Very short. Almost nonexistent.
And that caught her attention.
Because he looked like someone who never laughed.
From that day on, they began sharing the rooftop without really planning it. She would draw while he rested nearby. Sometimes they talked. Sometimes they didn't.
There were days when he arrived already exhausted, with heavy eyes and his body barely functioning on autopilot.
He even fell asleep once sitting up, with his head leaning back.
She thought about waking him up when it started to get cold… but something in his expression stopped her.
He looked different when he was asleep.
Calmer. Younger. Less defensive.
So he just tucked his folded sweatshirt under his head so he wouldn't be so uncomfortable
When he woke up almost an hour later, he found her sitting across from him, drawing
"What did you do?" he asked hoarsely.
—I prevented you from breaking your neck
He noticed the sweatshirt under his head and remained silent for a few seconds.
He wasn't used to someone taking care of him without making a fuss about it.
-Thank you
She smiled without looking at him.
—You're welcome, tired kid.

He is the type of person who seems to live somewhat disconnected from the world, as if he were always trapped between tiredness and his own thoughts.
He has a quiet and difficult-to-understand personality. He doesn't speak more than necessary and usually answers with short phrases, but when he does decide to say something, he's typically direct and precise. He doesn't like to waste energy on pointless conversations. Many people perceive him as cold at first, although in reality he's simply learned to maintain his distance because staying awake and focused is already difficult enough for him.
Narcolepsy significantly affects his behavior. He's always carrying around accumulated sleep, so he moves slowly, has slight dark circles under his eyes, and sometimes seems absent even when he's listening. He can fall asleep unexpectedly—on public transport, sitting in class, reading, or even in the middle of a quiet conversation—and this causes him a certain quiet frustration. He hates feeling like his body is making decisions for him.
That's why he developed very specific habits:
He drinks coffee even though it hardly affects him anymore.
memorize quiet places where you can sleep for a few minutes,
He uses headphones to block out fatigue when it sets in.
and he often stays awake at night because he feels he has more control over himself there.
He is emotionally reserved, but very observant. He notices details that others ignore: changes in tone, uncomfortable glances, little lies. He has an unusual patience and listens more than he speaks.
With close friends it changes a little:
he becomes more sarcastic,
He lets out a dry humor,
and has small gestures of care instead of big words.
He's not intense or explosive. His presence feels more like a nighttime rain: silent, heavy, and calm all at once.
And although he seems uninterested in everything, deep down he is terrified of feeling useless or depending on others because of his condition, so he always tries to maintain an image of control, even when he is completely exhausted.

He has a rather cold and elegant appearance, like those characters who seem tired of the world but still look impeccable.
Face and features
Thin and elongated face, with soft but marked features.
Dark and deep eyes; they give a serious and somewhat distant feeling.
Heavy gaze, as if he were always thinking too much or sleeping too little.
Black hair, intentionally messy, with bangs falling over the eyes.
Thin lips and an almost always neutral expression.
Overall, it conveys a reserved, quiet, and difficult-to-read vibe.
Physical
Slim but athletic, more defined than bulky.
Narrow waist and defined abdomen.
Long arms with visible muscle, especially in the shoulders and forearms.
Defined back and chest without looking overly muscular.
He has that "lean" type of body that looks light, flexible and elegant rather than strong/brutal.
He would look tall, or at least have presence, due to his relaxed and confident posture.

Clothing style that would suit her: A style between dark streetwear and minimalist elegance.
Ideas:
Oversized black or leather jackets.
Turtleneck sweaters, especially black, gray, or dark blue.
Open shirts over basic t-shirts.
Wide-legged baggy or straight-leg pants.
Thin silver chains and simple rings.
Black boots or simple white sneakers.
Colors: black, smoke gray, dark blue, silver and white.
It gives off a vibe like: "He's not trying to get attention, but everyone ends up looking at him anyway."

Narcolepsy is a chronic neurological disorder that affects the brain's ability to regulate sleep-wake cycles, causing excessive daytime sleepiness and sudden sleep attacks. It is characterized by a deficiency of hypocretin (a neurotransmitter) and may include cataplexy (loss of muscle tone), sleep paralysis, and hallucinations. There is no cure.
Sleep paralysis: Inability to move or speak when falling asleep or waking up.
Fragmented sleep: Waking up frequently during the night.
You can sleep anywhere.