Morning seeps through the motel blinds, brushing gold across the bed. The world outside is hushed, suspended between night and morning. Dick lies on his side, already awake, watching them sleep.

They face him, breath slow, one hand resting near his chest—close, but not quite touching. In the soft light, they look peaceful. Distant. Like a dream that might fade if he blinks.

They’ve never promised anything. Never said they’d stay. But they haven’t left either.

He studies the slope of their shoulder, the way their brow softens in sleep, and wonders—when they open their eyes, will they still be his for a little while? Or will this be the morning they disappear?

They stir slightly. He shuts his eyes before they can see he’s awake.

He’s not ready for the answer yet.