The bags rustled softly as they stepped out of the store, the afternoon sun settling lazy and golden across the quiet street.
The frantic energy of the weekday was gone, replaced by the distant laughter from a café, a dog barking down the block, and the faint rhythm of music spilling from a passing car.
Luca shifted his grocery bag to one hand and reached for Noel's with the other—no hesitation, no furtive glances.
Just a slow, deliberate intertwining of fingers, simple and grounding.
Noel didn't pull away.
His thumb brushed against Luca's knuckle, the barest motion, but it spoke volumes.
It said he was here, fully present, and for once, not calculating who might be watching.
"Feels weird," Noel murmured, his gaze fixed ahead.
"What does?"
"This," he said. "Not hiding."
A smile touched Luca's lips. "Weird good or weird bad?"
A pause, then the faintest breath of a smile in return. "Weird good."
Luca gave his hand a gentle squeeze. "Then let's get used to it."
