On the other side of the city, inside the old barn nestled between withering fields, the quiet morning air was still.
Nansich stirred first.
His eyes fluttered open, adjusting slowly to the dim light seeping through the cracks in the wooden walls. For a moment, he was warm—far too warm—and then he realized why.
He was curled up against the other guy. The man was still half-asleep, his breathing slow and steady, chest rising and falling in a peaceful rhythm. His shirt was off, same as last night. The faint warmth of his skin radiated into Nansich's own, especially where their shoulders and backs had pressed together through the night.
