His breathing evened out first. Deep and slow against my chest, his body going heavy and warm with sleep. I listened to it, this new sound in my apartment, and waited for the panic to start. The pull to put distance between us.
It didn’t come.
Something quieter settled in its place. Something I didn’t want to look at too closely, in case looking broke it.
The fairy lights flickered once, casting Ellis’ sleeping face in amber. I pressed my lips to his hair and breathed in cedar, sweat, and him.
My eyes closed.
For the first time in years, I fell asleep with someone in my bed and slept through the night.
Gray morning light crept through the curtains.
I opened my eyes and for a second, disorientation. Someone in my bed. Weight against my side, breath on my shoulder, an arm draped across my stomach.
The panic should have arrived then. Mornings always stripped the warmth off everything.
Ellis shifted in his sleep, pressing closer. His hair stood at three different angles. A crease from the pillowcase marked his cheek. The sheet had slipped to his waist, and in the morning light, his tattoo sleeve looked almost silver.
Not panic, though. No usual itch to check my phone or fake an early alarm or start building distance.
Warmth instead.
I wanted him here. Wanted to wake up like this again. Wanted the coffee I’d make him, the sleepy conversation, and the absurd domesticity of a shared morning.
A month ago, this would have unraveled me. I’d have texted Calliope, driven to the gym to sweat out the feeling until it burned off.
I stayed still. Let the moment exist. Let his weight against me be enough.
Ellis stirred. Eyes opening slow, unfocused, finding mine.
“Morning.” His voice was gravel and sleep.
“Morning.”
“What time is it?”
“Who cares.”
He smiled. Not the careful one. The real one, wide and unguarded, the one that crinkled his eyes and turned his whole face into something Iwanted to keep.
“Who cares,” he repeated, settling back against my chest. “I like that.”
My hand found his hair, fingers sliding through it. He made a low sound, somewhere between a hum and a sigh, and my chest squeezed tight enough to bruise.
Trouble. The thing I’d spent years dodging. Someone close enough to leave a mark.
Ellis was already leaving marks. Had been since the gym.
My phone buzzed on the nightstand. I ignored it. Buzzed again. Ignored it again.
The third time, Ellis laughed against my chest. “Someone wants you.”
“They can wait.”
“What if it’s important?”
“Nothing’s more important than this.”
