The light came slowly, golden and soft as it slipped through the wooden slats of the window.
Outside, the breeze stirred the tall grass, birdsong filtering in like a quiet melody.
Inside the room, everything was still.
Billy stirred first, blinking against the hush of morning.
The blanket had slipped low on his waist, and the sun had already touched Artur's shoulder beside him.
He turned his head, watching the rise and fall of Artur's chest.
His features, usually guarded, looked gentler in sleep—softer around the mouth, lashes resting against his skin. Billy didn't move. Not yet. He just stayed there, breathing it in.
After a moment, Artur shifted faintly, as if sensing the weight of Billy's gaze. His brows twitched, then his eyes cracked open.
"Hey," Billy said, his smile easing across his lips as he watched Artur stir.
Artur blinked slowly, voice gravelly from sleep. "What time is it?"
"Still early."
