Monday morning light filtered through the bedroom curtains, soft and forgiving.
Luca woke slowly, awareness returning in pieces—the warmth of blankets, Noel's steady breathing beside him, the faint sound of traffic outside.
He rolled over, finding Noel already awake, scrolling through his phone.
"Morning," Luca mumbled.
"Morning." Noel set his phone aside. "We should get up."
"Five more minutes."
"We said that twenty minutes ago."
"Time is relative."
Noel smiled, but he was already sitting up, stretching. "Come on. If we don't get up now, we'll be late."
Luca groaned but followed, dragging himself out of bed with tremendous effort.
They moved through their morning routine—Noel showering first while Luca made coffee, then switching, getting dressed in the comfortable choreography they'd perfected over months of living together.
By the time they were both ready, it was eight-fifteen.
"We have time," Luca said, stepping into Noel's space near the door.
"Barely."
