The room is not silent anymore.
Angel and I sit beside each other in the soft lamplight, and the space between us fills with something the chaos of today almost stole from me—laughter.
Real laughter. The kind that comes from nowhere and everywhere, that bubbles up unbidden and spills out like sunlight after rain.
I lean back on the couch, my head resting against the cushioned edge, watching him with a soft, tired smile.
He's telling me about the photoshoot. About the silly things that happened between takes. About the way the lighting kept shifting and the photographer's exasperated sighs. His hands move as he talks, animated in a way I rarely see, his golden eyes bright and alive.
He looks relaxed. Calm. Happy.
Spending time with him like this feels peaceful. Like home.
"Zyren."
His voice pulls me from my thoughts. I've been staring without realizing it, just drinking in the sight of him so at ease.
"Hmm?" The sound is lazy, content.
