The apartment was still half-dark when Noel's eyes opened, the pale gray of early morning seeping through the curtains.
He blinked slowly, disoriented for a moment, before the weight of last night settled back over him like a heavy blanket.
He turned his head.
Luca was still asleep beside him, facing the wall, one arm tucked beneath the pillow.
His breathing was slow and even, but there was a tightness to his shoulders even in sleep—like he couldn't fully let go.
Noel's chest ached.
He slipped out of bed carefully, bare feet silent against the cool floor.
The cat stirred at the foot of the bed, blinking up at him lazily before stretching and hopping down to follow.
The kitchen was quiet, bathed in soft morning light.
Noel moved carefully, opening the fridge and pulling out the two containers from last night—still sitting there, untouched, like a quiet accusation.
He stared at them for a moment, then set them on the counter.
*I messed up.*
