The morning light barely slipped through the curtains when Billy blinked awake. He hadn't slept much—too many thoughts pressing against the edges of sleep, too many questions unanswered.
But the warmth beside him, steady and quiet, gave him something solid to hold onto.
Artur was still asleep, his breath slow and even, one arm loosely draped across the blanket.
Billy lay still for a moment, watching the rise and fall of Artur's chest.
He reached out slowly, brushed back a few stray strands of hair, then pressed a soft kiss to his forehead.
"Sleep a little longer," he whispered.
Then he slid quietly from the bed, pulling on his shirt and stepping barefoot into the hallway.
The house was still and cool. But faint clinks and the scent of raw onion hinted someone else had already started the day.
Billy stepped into the main room.
Mr. Dand was at the kitchen counter, sleeves rolled, halfway through slicing a white onion, squinting a bit as the sting caught up with him.
