Beat's POV
The morning sunlight was pale, barely cutting through the heavy clouds. The cold lingered like an unwelcome guest, curling into the corners of the room. But beneath the blankets, it was warm.
Heart was still asleep.
His breathing was soft and steady, the faint rise and fall of his chest brushing against the edge of the blanket. Dark strands of hair had fallen across his forehead, and without the weight of wakefulness, his face looked softer. Peaceful.
I wanted to stay like this.
But the thought came unbidden. It's our last day.
Dad would be back tomorrow. I'd return to my own room, to the emptiness of a space without Heart in it. The small moments I'd grown used to - the way his steady presence filled the room, the unspoken comfort of knowing he was just a few feet away - all of it would be gone.
I didn't know how to feel about that.
The day passed in fragments.
We didn't talk much. Not about tomorrow. Not about what would change. But the awareness of it hovered over us like a shadow.
Heart wasn't cold. Not like before. He didn't avoid me. In fact, it was the opposite. He stayed close, lingering in the small spaces we shared.
His shoulder brushed mine when we passed in the kitchen. His hand lingered a second longer than necessary when he handed me a glass of water. And when I caught him watching me - like he was memorizing every detail - he didn't look away.
But neither of us said anything.
Nightfall
The heater hummed softly, but the cold still seeped through the walls. Outside, the city was quiet. The clouds had thickened, hiding the stars. The air felt heavier somehow - like it knew this was the last night.
We lay side by side, the blankets tangled between us. The silence wasn't uncomfortable. It was just... there. Thick and heavy, like it wanted to say something neither of us could.
My shirt had ridden up slightly, exposing a sliver of skin to the cool air. I tugged the blanket higher, trying to ignore the way my heart thumped. But even as I closed my eyes, I could feel it.
The weight of his presence. The warmth of him, only inches away.
And then, I felt it.
A touch.
It was tentative at first. Barely noticeable. His fingers grazed the curve of my waist - just a light brush, like he was testing something. I froze.
"Heart?" My voice was barely above a whisper.
He didn't answer.
But he didn't stop.
His hand splayed softly against my side, his fingertips tracing the thin fabric of my shirt. Every movement sent a spark along my skin. I should've pulled away. I should've said something.
But I didn't.
I couldn't.
His palm was warm, stark against the cold air. He shifted closer, the edge of his thigh pressing against mine. His breathing had changed - slower, heavier. The air between us thickened.
"Why are you-" I started, but the words caught in my throat.
"Because I want to," he murmured, his voice low and steady.
My heart pounded. I could feel the warmth of his breath against my neck, the soft tickle of it sending shivers down my spine. His fingers brushed against my bare skin where my shirt had ridden up, and the contact burned - not from heat, but from something deeper.
He traced lazy patterns along my side, his touch feather-light. I hated how easily my body responded, how I shifted beneath him, wanting more.
But I wasn't the only one.
Heart exhaled, his forehead barely brushing against the back of my neck. His lips grazed the curve of my shoulder, just enough to make me tremble. My eyes fluttered shut.
He wasn't rushing. There was no urgency. Just careful, deliberate touches - like he wanted to memorize the feel of me beneath his fingertips.
"Beat," he whispered. My name. Just my name.
I didn't respond. I couldn't.
And then, he pressed his lips against my nape. Soft. Barely there. But the warmth of it spread through me, igniting something I didn't know how to name.
I tilted my head slightly, giving him more space. His mouth lingered, placing another kiss - slower this time. His breath was warm, his lips parting just enough to leave a faint trace of heat.
"Heart," I whispered, but there was no protest in my voice.
His arm slid around me, his fingers splaying across my stomach. The thin fabric of my shirt did little to dull the heat of his touch. Every inch of me felt like it was burning, yet I didn't pull away.
I didn't want to.
His legs tangled with mine beneath the blankets. The brush of his skin against mine sent shivers through me. My breathing quickened. I could feel his heart beating - fast and unsteady. Just like mine.
Neither of us spoke.
We didn't need to.
He pressed another kiss to the side of my neck, his lips lingering longer this time. The heat of him wrapped around me, driving away the cold. Every touch, every breath, every soft exhale - it was all consuming.
But we never crossed the line.
There were no desperate kisses. No rushed movements. Just the slow, burning warmth of skin against skin. The quiet hum of desire, steady and unrelenting.
And through it all, I stayed.
Because no part of me wanted to leave.
