Jay woke before the alarm.
It wasn't unusual. His body had already adjusted to discipline long before routines needed reminders. He lay still for a moment, eyes open, staring at the ceiling he didn't recognize as his own. The room carried a different silence from his apartment—controlled, expensive, untouched by randomness. Roman's space. Roman's world.
Beside him, Roman was still asleep.
Jay turned his head slightly, studying him without expression. Even in sleep, Roman looked composed, like nothing ever truly caught him off guard. One arm rested loosely across the bed, the sheets pulled low against his waist, his breathing steady and unbothered. There was no tension in him, no sign of the calculated man who ran everything outside these walls.
Jay sat up slowly.
He didn't rush. He didn't linger either.
