I woke up to light.
Not the harsh, painful kind that dragged me out of sleep. This was soft. Warm. It slid through the thin curtains and settled over the room like it didn't want to scare me.
For a terrifying second, I didn't know where I was.
My body stiffened. Instinct kicked in. Count the exits. Listen for footsteps. Measure the air.
Then I breathed in.
Coffee. Soap. Him.
The panic faded just enough.
I was on the couch. A blanket had been pulled over me sometime in the night. I didn't remember lying down. I didn't remember falling asleep either.
But I remembered his lips on mine. The feel of it and the self-control we both had to exert to stop at that.
That memory didn't hurt. For one, it felt warm. I felt warm.
I shifted slightly and froze when I felt warmth beside me.
Cyrus.
He was sitting on the floor with his back against the couch, close enough that his shoulder brushed my knee. One arm was folded, the other resting loosely on the cushion near me like he'd fallen asleep halfway through keeping watch.
His head was tilted back against the couch. Mouth slightly open. Completely unguarded.
He looked younger like this. Softer. Human.
I shouldn't stare.
I stared.
There was something in my chest that tightened in a way that wasn't fear. Something slow. Quiet. Awake.
He stirred before I could look away. Like he felt it.
One eye opened lazily. Then the other.
"Morning," he murmured, voice rough with sleep.
I panicked.
Not the screaming kind. The quiet kind. The kind that makes you want to laugh and disappear at the same time.
"You… slept there?" I asked, sitting up slowly.
He blinked. Then glanced behind him. Then, down at the floor.
"Yeah," he said.
The blanket slipped slightly from my shoulders as I moved. I pulled it tighter, suddenly too aware of how close he still was.
Silence filled the space between us, but it wasn't awkward.
It was delicate.
"Did you…" I hesitated. "Did I sleep okay?"
He glanced back at me, softer now. "You didn't scream," he said. "That felt like a win."
That shouldn't have sounded like tenderness.
It did.
I swallowed. "You could've slept on the couch like a normal person, you know."
He shifted, stretching his legs a little. "You looked like you might vanish if I moved."
That hurt.
In a good way.
I looked away first.
Cyrus pushed himself up slowly, stretching like he'd slept on actual concrete instead of a floor. He rolled his shoulders, winced a little, and then offered me a hand.
Not pulling.
Just offering.
I stared at it for a second.
Then I took it.
He helped me up carefully, like I was something fragile, not weak, but worthy of gentleness.
"I'll make breakfast," he said casually, stepping past me. "You look like you'd cry over toast right now."
I snorted. "I would not cry over toast."
"You cried over coffee."
"That was emotional coffee."
His mouth twitched like he was fighting a smile.
"Can we come out now?" I asked he nodded, heading toward the door I followed silently, enjoying the view of his broad shoulders.
He inputed a series of pins before finally the door was opened.
We got out, and just like before, he had to input a series of code before we finally left.
The house was just as we left it.
He moved around the kitchen like he was used to doing things quietly. Kettle. Pan. Bread.
I leaned against the doorframe, watching him. Something warm pooled low in my chest.
Normalcy.
I wasn't used to it.
"So," he said without looking at me. "You should go shower first. I'll be done in a few minutes"
I blinked. "I want to watch you"
He turned back slightly, eyes unreadable. "You shouldn'tsay things like that, Sienna, i might get the wrong impression"
I thought about it.
"What impression is there to get? i meant what i said," I said quietly.
He stared at me for a while, saying nothing, and in his eyes, I saw something change.
Breakfast was simple. Toast. Eggs. Too much butter.
We sat at the table again, but this time, it didn't feel like a battlefield.
It felt like a beginning.
Our fingers brushed accidentally when he slid the plate toward me.
Neither of us pulled away.
The light grew warmer.
The shadows grew softer.
And for the first time, morning didn't feel like something I had to survive.
It felt like something I could live through.