The quiet stretched, warm and unhurried. Luca's breathing grew deep and steady against Noel's side, his lashes casting faint, delicate shadows onto his cheeks.
His arm, still slung across Noel's middle, slackened bit by bit until it was a comfortable, heavy weight rather than a conscious hold.
Noel shifted just enough to glance down at him. "You're actually dozing off," he murmured, his tone a mix of disbelief and deep fondness.
Luca didn't stir, only let out a soft, contented hum, the kind people make when they're too far gone to form coherent words.
Noel exhaled a small, silent laugh through his nose. "You can't really sleep now. We've still got one last thing to tick off, remember?" His hand came to rest lightly on Luca's shoulder, not pushing—just a gentle, grounding reminder.
A muffled protest slipped from Luca's lips, something between a groan and a plea.
