The first light of morning spilled through the curtains, pale gold and quiet, touching the room in delicate strokes.
Dust motes danced in the slanted beams, suspended like tiny stars in the stillness that existed only in these precious moments between sleep and the demands of the day.
Felix stirred first, his cheek still pressed to Matteo's chest.
For a moment, he only listened—the steady rhythm of Matteo's heartbeat beneath his ear, grounding, unchanging.
The sound had become his anchor, more reliable than any alarm clock, more comforting than any lullaby.
He could feel the gentle rise and fall of Matteo's breathing, the warmth radiating through the thin fabric of his sleep shirt.
He shifted slightly, just enough to tilt his head up.
Matteo's eyes were already open, darker in the morning glow, watching him with a tenderness that never failed to catch Felix off guard.
