A rooster crowed somewhere in the distance, but it was the soft hum of morning air that stirred Billy awake.
The sky outside was still painted with pale gold, the kind that hadn't decided yet if it wanted to be cloudy or clear.
In the quiet of the room, he blinked his eyes open and felt the steady rise and fall of Artur's breathing beside him.
For a moment, he stayed still—wrapped in the warmth of the blanket and the gentle weight of Artur's arm across his chest. Then, slowly, he turned his head, watching as Artur's lashes flickered.
Artur didn't say anything, but his hand gave Billy's side a sleepy squeeze.
They exchanged a small glance, nothing more than a quiet good morning before the day began.
Eventually, they both shifted. Billy sat up first, pulling on his shirt while Artur rubbed a hand down his face and stretched his limbs with a soft grunt.
From the hallway, they could already hear the faint sound of pots clinking—Mr. Dand must've been up before them.
