Diamant was in the study, then moved to the living room and stayed for a while after the doctor left. The clock ticked softly against the wall, the sound echoing in the silence. He had taken off his tie and loosened the collar of his shirt, leaning back on the couch with a hand resting over his eyes.
He could still see Noah's face in his mind, moaning, panting, and begging for more, which made him smirk a little bit.
But his smirk weared away when an image flashed his memory, he could see Noah, flushed, nervous, and trying too hard to appear fine.
Trying, always trying.
It made something twist quietly in his chest.
Eventually, he stood and made his way down the hallway. The soft glow of the bedroom lamp spilled out through the half-open door. He paused there for a moment, his hand resting on the doorframe, as if deciding whether to go in.
Inside, Noah was already asleep. Or at least, pretending to be.
The blanket was pulled up high, but a bit of golden hair peeked from underneath, strands scattered across the pillow in soft curls. His breathing was slow and even, his eyelashes trembling faintly like they were caught in a dream.
Diamant stepped closer — careful, quiet. The faint sound of the city outside hummed like distant waves. He stopped by the side of the bed and just looked at him for a long moment.
Noah always seemed so fragile when he was still — delicate in a way that made Diamant's usually disciplined composure shift ever so slightly.
He reached out, hesitating, then gently brushed a stray lock of hair from Noah's forehead. The warmth beneath his fingertips was reassuring — not feverish anymore, just soft and human.
"Don't overwork yourself again," Diamant whispered, his voice barely audible. "You don't need to prove anything."
Noah stirred faintly, but didn't wake. His lips parted slightly as if he wanted to say something, then he turned his face toward the pillow again.
Diamant watched him for another moment, the faintest smile ghosting across his lips.
Then, quietly, he reached down and adjusted the blanket around Noah's shoulders, making sure he was fully covered. He stayed there for a moment longer — just long enough for the morning's weariness to settle in — and then turned toward the window.
The city lights flickered through the sheer curtains, bathing the room in a faint silver glow that caught in his long hair. He stood there, hands in his pockets, looking out at the skyline.
There was something peaceful about the silence — the kind that came only after chaos.
The kind that made him realize how much he wanted to protect this calm, fragile thing that had wandered into his life.
He exhaled softly, and the corner of his mouth curved again.
"sleep well, Noah," he murmured.
Outside, the night stretched on, serene and endless.