Morning light spilled through the small window, brushing the edges of the room with pale gold.
Gabriel stirred first, eyelids fluttering open.
For a quiet moment, he just watched Ethan curled under the blanket, hair tousled, breath steady.
His chest tightened with a feeling he couldn't name—care, concern, maybe something more.
He rose carefully, trying not to disturb him, and moved to the tiny kitchen.
The kettle whistled softly.
Coffee brewed, filling the space with a rich, comforting aroma.
Gabriel poured a cup, then glanced back at Ace almost instinctively.
The boy's eyelashes caught the light, a slight frown of dreams softening his features.
Gabriel sipped the coffee, letting the calm of the morning settle over him.
Each little sound Ethan made the shifting of the blanket, a faint murmur in his sleep pulled at him, tugged at the edge of something he wasn't ready to name.
Then Ethan stirred, groaning softly, stretching an arm out like a sleepy anchor.
His eyes blinked open, meeting Gabriel's gaze almost immediately.
"Angel… you're up," he murmured, voice husky, barely more than a whisper.
Gabriel's lips twitched almost a smile but he kept his tone measured. "Morning. You didn't wake me, so I let you sleep."
Ethan yawned, then tilted his head slightly, eyes still soft with sleep. "I like mornings like this. Just… quiet. You here."
Gabriel felt warmth rise to his cheeks, a dangerous softness he could hardly acknowledge.
He set the coffee aside, hesitating a heartbeat too long. "You should get up. Eat something. You're still recovering."
Ethan blinked, then smirked slightly, leaning just a little closer. "I'd rather stay here… with you."
Gabriel froze, the quiet tension tightening around them.
He wanted to protest, to warn him, to keep boundaries but all that came out was a low, measured, "Breakfast first. Then… we'll see."
Ethan nodded slowly, eyes sparkling with mischief and something tender. "Deal… Angel."
For a long, lingering moment, they simply stayed there.
Morning light painting them in quiet gold, the world outside forgotten, the space between them charged with soft, unspoken promises.
Gabriel moved back into the kitchen, his hands already finding rhythm in the small space.
Bread to the pan, eggs cracked with practiced ease.
He didn't look over, but he felt it—Ace's gaze, heavy, unashamed, following his every move.
"Smells good already," Ethan murmured, voice still rough from sleep. He pushed the blanket off his shoulders, stretching like a lazy cat. "I could get used to this. Angel Gabriel making me breakfast every morning."
Gabriel gave him a sharp look over his shoulder. "Don't get used to it."
Ethan smirked, undeterred, swinging his legs off the couch. "Too late. Spoil me once and I'm ruined for life."
Gabriel turned back to the stove, ignoring him—or trying to.
He plated the food, set it down on the small table with quiet efficiency. "Sit. Eat before it gets cold."
Ethan slid into the chair, leaning forward, eyes darting from the food to Gabriel himself. "You know, this is the first time someone's cooked for me since… I don't even remember. Years, maybe."
Gabriel paused mid-pour of coffee, his expression unreadable, then finally set the cup in front of him. "Then eat and stop talking."
Ethan picked up the fork obediently, but his grin only widened. "Bossy angel. I like that."
Gabriel sat opposite him, finally lifting his own cup. "You like too many things."
Ethan shrugged, taking a bite, eyes closing with exaggerated bliss. "Mmh. And this—I definitely like. Careful, Angel. You keep this up and I might just fall for you harder."
Gabriel's hand stilled on the cup, the faintest flicker of something passing across his face. He masked it with a sip, voice even. "Eat your food."
Ethan chuckled softly, but this time, he didn't push.
Instead, he ate quietly, though every now and then his gaze slipped back to Gabriel, softer now, less teasing—like he was memorizing the moment.
And though Gabriel kept his eyes fixed on the table, his pulse betrayed him, beating faster than it should in the quiet morning light.
The plates sat forgotten on the table long after they'd finished.
Ethan hadn't moved, his fork resting across the rim like he'd forgotten it was there.
He only watched Gabriel rise, his chair scraping back with calm finality.
"I'm going to shower," Gabriel said, his tone even, as if it were just another item on his list.
He didn't wait for a reply, only disappeared into the bathroom.
The sound of running water filled the silence.
Ethan stayed hunched over the table, chin in hand, staring at nothing in particular.
His lips moved like he was testing words on his tongue but swallowed them back before they could take form.
When Gabriel emerged, the faint scent of soap clung to him.
His shirt was fresh, collar neat, and his hair still damp at the edges.
The simple shift was enough to draw Ace upright in his chair, eyes trailing without shame.
"You're going to work again?" he asked, pushing to his feet as Gabriel passed.
Gabriel nodded, sliding his watch onto his wrist. "That's what mornings are for."
Ethan followed him, steps quickening. "Always so serious. You don't even stop to breathe, do you?"
Gabriel reached for the door, but before his fingers touched the handle, Ace's hand caught his wrist.
His grip wasn't strong, just enough to halt him, tether him there in the quiet.
"Hey…" Ethan's voice softened, all teasing stripped away. His eyes searched Gabriel's, earnest in a way that disarmed. "Come back quickly, okay? The house is… boring without you."
For a beat, Gabriel didn't move.
His pulse kicked under Ethan's touch, though his face gave nothing away.
He looked down at the hand on his wrist, then at Ethan—too close, too open.
"…Don't touch my things," he said quietly, a ghost of yesterday's warning.
But his voice lacked the sharpness it once carried, and his wrist didn't pull free until the very last second, as he stepped through the door.
Ethan stayed behind, staring at the space he left, his hand still tingling with the warmth of Gabriel's skin.
The door clicked shut, a quiet finality echoing through the small apartment.
For a moment, Gabriel stood in the dim hallway, his hand still resting against the knob like he hadn't decided whether to hold it or turn it back.
He exhaled slow, sharp like the air itself carried weight.
The memory of Ace's voice clung to him. Come back quickly… The words threaded into him, tugging somewhere he didn't want to name.
He shook his head, straightened his shoulders, forced his feet to move.
Yet even as he walked down the corridor, the ghost of a grin threatened at the edges of his mouth, one he quickly smothered.
Inside, Ethan leaned back against the closed door, listening to the faint echo of retreating steps.
He let out a dramatic sigh, pulling the blanket tighter around himself.
"House is boring without you, Angel," he murmured under his breath, as if Gabriel could still hear him.
He shuffled toward the bathroom, dragging the blanket slightly behind him like a cape.
"I'm going to shower… don't even think about peeking, Angel," he muttered, glancing back over his shoulder as if expecting Gabriel to be lurking in the hallway. "Not that you'd dare," he added, voice teasing, though there was a hint of a smile in the words.
Inside, he dropped the blanket onto the counter, rolling his eyes at how cramped the tiny bathroom felt. "Survived worse, Ace," he muttered, tugging off his clothes.
A low groan escaped him—partly from the chill, partly from being uncomfortably aware of how much he missed Gabriel's presence already.
He turned the faucet. Water sputtered before settling into a steady stream.
He leaned under it, letting the warmth hit his shoulders.
"Ahh… finally," he whispered, eyes closing, tension melting away.
Even here, alone, he found himself glancing at the door now and then, as if expecting Gabriel to appear.
I don't care if he told me to leave… I'm not done staying close to him yet.
Steam still clung faintly to his skin as Ethan padded out of the bathroom, hair damp, shirt sticking slightly where it clung to his shoulders.
He tossed his bag onto the floor without care, as though the apartment were already his.
The fridge creaked open under his hand.
A bottle of water was all he claimed, twisting the cap and taking a long drink, head tipped back, throat working.
He smirked to himself as he shut the door with his hip.
"Not bad, Angel," he muttered into the quiet, eyeing the neatly arranged shelves Gabriel clearly kept in order. "Too neat, actually. Someone's gotta shake this place up."
He dropped himself onto the couch, sprawling across it like a king claiming his throne.
One arm dangled over the edge, the bottle resting against his chest.
His blanket was long forgotten, his damp hair leaving little marks on the cushion.
Minutes passed.
The silence pressed in around him, yet instead of unease, it stirred a restless energy.
He shifted. Stretched. Sat up for a moment, then flopped back down again.
His gaze traced the ceiling, the corners of the tiny apartment, until finally he pushed himself upright and stood in the middle of the room.
Hands shoved into his pockets, he muttered, almost sulking, "Damn, this place feels too empty without him."
The words lingered in the air, as if he was daring the silence to answer back.
His eyes drifted—to the bookshelf, the desk, the closed drawer Gabriel had warned him about.
Don't touch my things.
Ethan's lips curved slowly, mischief sparking in his chest.
"Sorry, Angel," he whispered, already moving toward the desk. "But you should know by now—I'm terrible at following rules."