Morning crept in through the window in strands of gold, casting soft shadows on the tangle of limbs beneath the covers — two breaths rising and falling as one. The world outside was quiet still — no clattering pots, no creaking doors — just birdsong far in the distance and the soft rustle of sheets.
Artur stirred first.
His eyes blinked open slowly, adjusting to the soft light. The first thing he felt was warmth — the steady rise and fall of Billy's chest beneath his cheek, and the way their legs were still tangled under the covers.
He shifted slightly, careful not to wake him, but—
A low murmur came from above. "Don't move."
Billy's voice was hoarse with sleep, barely above a whisper, but firm.
Artur froze, then chuckled under his breath. "Didn't think you were awake."
"I wasn't," Billy mumbled, his arms tightening slightly around Artur. "But I always know when you try to leave me."
