(Where morning light gentles everything, even the things they didn't say. And a quiet new presence begins to hover at the edge of Kade's world.)
"Some mornings aren't loud. They don't burst open.
They just… rise. Like the soft exhale of someone you trust still breathing beside you."
Soft Light & Slow Breathing
When Kade woke up, he didn't open his eyes at first.
He didn't need to.
The scent of her shampoo—jasmine and something vaguely citrus—was already flooding his senses. Her head rested beneath his chin, warm and real. Their legs tangled naturally, like they'd grown that way in their sleep.
Outside the window, the sky hadn't made up its mind yet—somewhere between pale blue and overcast. Birds chirped lazily. The whole house was still.
He felt Viera shift, just a little. Not to move away.
But closer.
She murmured something.
"Mhm?" he rasped.
"…Your heartbeat's loud."
He smiled against her hair.
"You're laying on the speaker."
No Rush
They didn't get up.
The clock blinked past 9:14. Then 9:28. Then 10:03.
Breakfast didn't matter. Neither did clothes. Neither did the rest of the world. They stayed in that blanket cocoon, limbs tangled and voices hushed like they were sharing a secret with the morning.
"I drooled on your hoodie," Viera said eventually.
Kade blinked. "…Unforgivable."
"I regret nothing."
"Monster."
She giggled, her laugh still scratchy from sleep. He loved that. Loved the way her voice cracked a little when she'd just woken up. Like it forgot to be perfect.
She poked his side gently.
He didn't flinch.
"You didn't even squirm," she said.
"I'm evolving," he replied, smug.
"Impossible." She narrowed her eyes. "Only one way to confirm."
"Oh no—wait, Viera—don't—"
But she was already halfway under the covers again, her fingers sliding beneath the fabric to—
"OKAY I'M STILL TICKLISH—MERCY!"
Laughter filled the room like sunlight.
A Small Glimpse Outside
Later, when they were finally dressed and halfway through a quiet breakfast of cereal and bananas (because neither could be bothered to cook), Kade's phone buzzed.
He checked it.
Paused.
Viera looked up. "Something wrong?"
"No," he said slowly, thumb hovering over the screen. "Just… someone messaged me."
She raised an eyebrow. "Like… a girl?"
"No. A guy. From school. He's in my math class, I think."
Viera looked intrigued. "You have math friends?"
Kade rolled his eyes. "I have math classmates. This one said, 'You did good on the quiz, man. If you ever wanna study together, hit me up.'"
She blinked.
"That's… kind of adorable."
Kade looked at the message again.
A small smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. Not because of the message. But because it felt like… a possibility. A small thread, dangling into the future.
The name on the contact was:
Elliot M.
🧠📚💀 (bio: "math guy. not weird. probably.")
He didn't reply right away.
But he didn't delete it either.
After Breakfast
They were sitting on the porch now. Viera in a blanket, her legs draped over Kade's lap. His arms loosely cradled her ankles. The wind had teeth, but the blanket fought it off.
Viera looked at him suddenly.
"You ever think about what this all means?"
He tilted his head. "This?"
"You. Me. The hoodie. The tickling. The sleepovers. Like… where it's going."
He was quiet for a moment.
Then said, "Not really."
She frowned. "No?"
He shook his head.
"I mean… I used to think all the time. About what might break. What might get ruined. What I'd lose if I got too close."
He looked at her, soft and certain.
"But with you? I'm just thinking about today."
That Look Again
Viera stared at him.
And then kissed him.
Not rushed.
Not dramatic.
Just real.
The kind of kiss that feels like exhaling.
Like a blanket being pulled over your shoulders.
Like a hoodie that still smells like the boy who gave it to you.
Final Scene: A Window
From across the street, a boy stood with his hands in his pockets, earbuds in. Watching nothing. Watching everything.
Dark curls under a gray beanie.
A sharp jawline.
Long lashes that made him look perpetually half-asleep.
A sketchbook peeking out of his backpack, stuffed with loose pages and folded candy wrappers.
His name?
Elliot Mathers.
But no one really knew that yet.
Not Kade. Not Viera.
Not yet.
He turned, just as a breeze swept past. The page in his hand fluttered once—then settled.
A simple line drawn in ink.
Two figures curled beneath a blanket.
One with their head on the other's chest.
And silence between them.
But the kind of silence that said:
I see you.
End of Chapter 26 – The Morning After Is Softer Than the Night