The first thing that reached Luca was the light—soft, golden, unapologetically gentle.
It slipped through the balcony curtains, brushing over the floor, the couch, the tangle of limbs half-hidden under the blanket.
Noel was still asleep beside him, one arm flung over Luca's chest like gravity had chosen him.
His hair was a mess, that careless kind of beautiful, and Luca didn't even think about moving. He just lay there, watching.
The apartment was quiet except for the hum of the fridge and the distant sound of someone's radio drifting from another building.
Luca's fingers moved slowly, brushing over Noel's knuckles.
He could feel the faint pulse there—steady, grounding. "You'd sleep through an earthquake," he whispered.
Noel stirred faintly, eyes still closed. "Only if you're the pillow."
Luca huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. "Smooth, even in your sleep."
A faint smile tugged at Noel's lips. "I try."
For a moment, neither of them moved.
