Noah's POV
Logan is still fast asleep when I wake up beside him.
His arms are loose around my waist, breath warm against the back of my neck. It's soft and steady. Comforting. A slice of paradise, my favourite place to be.
I let my eyes close again and inhale deeply, burying myself in the scent of him. Soap and sleep. Faded pine from the shirt. The faint trace of my own shampoo. An even fainted trace of sex.
I allow myself a few selfish minutes. Minutes where I pretend the world outside this bed doesn't exist. That there isn't a tournament finals coming, or a civil war. I ignore the thousand and one expectations chasing us down like blood hounds on the hunt. Last night was good. More than good. It was intense. Fun. Necessary. A reminder of what we still have.
But even back then, I knew it was temporary and now, in the warmth of his arms, I know it's over.
It's a new morning, I'm up and reality is up with me.
Shit.
