Saturday morning arrived without alarm, sunlight filtering through curtains in soft golden streams, the world quiet and unhurried.
Luca woke slowly, awareness returning in comfortable pieces—warmth, softness, Noel's steady breathing beside him, the absence of obligation.
No work. No deadlines. Just weekend.
He kept his eyes closed, content to exist in this half-awake state, Noel's arm heavy across his waist, their legs tangled together beneath the covers.
"You're awake," Noel murmured, voice still thick with sleep.
"How do you know?"
"Your breathing changed."
"That's creepy."
"That's observant."
Luca smiled, finally opening his eyes to find Noel already watching him, hair messy, expression soft and unguarded.
"Morning," Luca said.
"Morning."
They lay there, neither moving, both reluctant to disturb the perfect stillness.
"What time is it?" Luca asked eventually.
Noel glanced toward the nightstand. "Almost ten."
"We slept in."
"We earned it."
