The hotel room overlooked the Seine, the Eiffel Tower visible in the distance, lit up against the darkening sky.
They'd spent the week exploring—walking through museums, getting lost in narrow streets, eating too much bread and cheese and not caring.
Now they sat on the small balcony, Felix curled against Matteo's side, both of them watching the city lights reflect on the water.
"We should come back," Felix said. "Every year. Make it a tradition."
"Another tradition? We already have Japan."
"We're collectors of traditions. It's fine."
"We're going to spend our entire lives traveling."
"I can think of worse ways to spend forever."
A boat passed on the Seine below, music and laughter drifting up.
Paris at night was different from Paris during the day—softer, more romantic, like the city itself was settling into contentment.
"Matteo?" Felix's voice was quiet.
"Hmm?"
