The next morning, Michael woke up with his waist cramping. Though they didn't do it, the small action carried out seemed to have had a strain on him.
"You're up?" Noah asked, and Michael looked at him as he walked into the room. He quickly recalled his dream but dismissed it.
"Yeah. What... What time is it?" He asked, sitting up with the blanket covering only his lower half and exposing his chest.
Noah had left quite several marks all over his body, and seeing this, Noah cleared his throat, looking away.
He felt proud of his accomplishments.
"A little past 12," he said, and Michael's eyes widened.
"What? That late?" He quickly flung the blanket. "We need to go check on Olivia. She must be upset that we haven't come to see her. Quick, hurry and—"
"Relax," Noah said to him, pushing him back to sit by the shoulders. "I already stopped by the hospital. Olivia has had breakfast and she's doing fine."
