The morning light filters through the curtains, bathing the room in a lazy warmth. You can still feel the trace of him on your lips a mix of smoke, desire, and something sweet that only Noel has. He’s lying in the sheets, bare-chested, wearing that look of satisfaction he rarely allows himself offstage.

“You're gonna kill me one of these days,” he murmurs with a half-smile, his accent thicker from sleep.

You just shrug, feigning innocence as you settle beside him. The guitar rests in the corner, forgotten for now. Today, you were his best gift.

“You know what the worst part is?” he says, turning a bit to look at you. “After that, I don’t know if I wanna go anywhere, really. Could just stay right here with you. All day. Nothing else.”