The morning light crept in gently, brushing across the pale curtains and casting soft gold across the room.
It wasn't harsh or sudden — just enough to stir the edges of sleep, to remind the world it was time to begin again.
Billy stirred, eyes fluttering open.
For a moment, he stayed still, watching the dust dance lazily in the sunbeam.
There was something grounding about it — quiet, ordinary, but full of peace.
Beside him, Artur was still asleep, half-turned toward Billy, one arm resting loosely near his side.
His breathing was steady, lips parted slightly, hair tousled from the pillow. Vulnerable in a way Billy rarely got to see.
Billy didn't move. Not yet.
He took in the calm expression on Artur's face — the softness around his eyes, the way the light hit the curve of his cheek.
A small part of him still marveled at how easily this man had slipped into his life, not forcing his way in, just… arriving and staying.
