Morning sunlight spilled through the kitchen window, warm and golden, catching dust motes in the air like tiny stars. Cassian sat at the table, wrapped in one of Aiden's oversized hoodieswhich he stole because his cloths were all in "to wash bucket", watching Leonel scowl at the toaster like it had personally offended him.
"Maybe if you stopped shoving three slices in at once," Aiden said from the counter, pouring orange juice into three glasses, "it wouldn't burn them."
"It's supposed to be crispy," Leonel muttered, stabbing at a blackened piece with a fork.
Cassian smiled faintly. This this easy, messy normalcy was what he'd been starving for. But beneath the warmth, Lucian's photo still sat heavy in his chest like a stone. He hadn't told them. Couldn't. Not when they looked this peaceful.
"You good?" Leonel asked suddenly, eyes flicking to him.
Cassian nodded too fast. "Yeah. Just… thinking."
