The light had changed.
Not just the way it slipped through the trees or kissed the fields with lavender dusk—but the kind of light that softened people, turned silence into comfort, and made a simple breath feel like belonging.
The door clicked shut behind them.
For a moment, they just stood in the quiet. The house felt different now—not because anything had changed, but because they had.
The air between them held something unspoken, fragile and new, like the first bloom of something long-awaited.
Artur's hand was still in Billy's. He didn't let go.
Billy turned slightly, eyes meeting his. "Can I… stay here tonight?"
The question wasn't really about the room.
Artur's fingers tightened just a little. "You already are."
They moved slowly, wordlessly, through the soft light of the hallway.
The wooden floor creaked under their steps, but neither flinched from the sound. Everything felt magnified—every breath, every glance, every heartbeat.
