They moved to the couch after cleaning up, the city glow spilling faintly through the blinds.
Noel sat with one knee bent, elbow draped loosely over the backrest.
Luca curled beside him, head resting against his shoulder—the air between them tender, but still fragile.
For a while, neither spoke.
The hum of traffic filled the quiet, steady and distant, like the world had forgotten to hurry.
Then Noel said softly, "Luca."
A low hum. "Mm?"
Noel hesitated, his thumb tracing the edge of Luca's wrist—absent, thoughtful. "At work... we need to be careful."
Luca lifted his head slightly, brows furrowing. "Careful how?"
"About us," Noel said, his gaze fixed on the skyline. "Don't let people see too much. It's not that I want to hide you." His voice softened, weighted with care. "But if they figure it out—who we are, who your father is..."
Luca watched him, reading the quiet strain in his posture. "You think they'll treat us differently."