The morning unfolded softly—pale gold spilling across the floor, brushing against tangled sheets and half-remembered dreams.
Noel stirred first, the familiar weight of Luca's arm draped across his waist, the faint warmth of breath against the back of his neck.
For a moment, he didn't move.
He just listened—to the quiet rhythm of Luca's breathing, to the heartbeat of a home that had somehow become theirs.
He turned slightly, eyes finding Luca's face—still heavy with sleep, hair messy in every direction, lips parted in that unguarded way that only happened when he forgot the world.
Noel reached up, brushed a strand of hair from Luca's forehead, his fingers lingering for a second longer than necessary.
"Morning," Luca mumbled, voice gravelly, not yet awake.
"You're awake," Noel murmured back, amused.
"Barely," Luca said, eyes still closed. "But I could feel you staring. Creepy."
Noel rolled his eyes, standing up from the bed. "I wasn't staring."
