Morning arrived softly—light filtering through the curtains in pale gold streaks, the city already awake beyond the windows.
Luca stirred first, awareness returning slowly.
He was warm, comfortable, wrapped around something solid and familiar.
Noel.
His eyes opened. Noel was still asleep, face peaceful, breathing steady and deep.
His glasses sat folded on the nightstand, hair mussed from sleep, one hand resting on Luca's arm.
Luca didn't move. Didn't want to break this moment.
He's here. He's really here.
Yesterday—the flight, seeing his mother, the emotional weight of it all, then finding Noel—felt like a lifetime compressed into hours. But this, right now, was simple. Perfect.
Noel shifted slightly, a small sound escaping his throat.
His eyes fluttered open.
"Morning," Luca whispered.
Noel blinked, recognition dawning, then smiled—sleepy, genuine, beautiful. "Morning," he murmured back, voice rough with sleep. "You're still here."
"Where else would I be?"
