The morning was entirely silent, save for the soft, rhythmic ticking of the clock on the bedside table and the distant, muffled sound of traffic from the street below. The heavy, dark curtains they had hung earlier in the week did their job perfectly, blocking out the harsh morning sun and trapping the room in a hazy, timeless twilight. Paris woke up slowly, drifting back to consciousness in waves. The air in the bedroom was cool, but under the heavy layers of the duvet, it was a perfectly insulated pocket of warmth. She didn't move an inch. The sheer weight of comfort felt like gravity, pinning her to the mattress in the best way possible. She shifted slightly, realizing her back was pressed flush against Adam’s chest. His arm was thrown over her waist, heavy and possessive, his fingers loosely curled against her stomach. He was still dead to the world, his breathing deep and even against the back of her neck. Paris smiled into the dark room, letting her eyes close again. There was no alarm set. There was no schedule to keep, no furniture to assemble, and no boxes waiting to be taped. It was the first day in weeks where they had absolutely nothing to do but exist. As if sensing her movement, Adam stirred. He let out a low, groggy murmur, his grip around her waist tightening instinctively as he pulled her a fraction closer, tucking his knees behind hers. "Awake?" his voice was barely a gravelly whisper, rough with sleep. "Halfway," Paris murmured, turning her head slightly on the pillow. "Go back to sleep." "Don't want to," he mumbled, though his eyes stayed firmly shut. He buried his face into the space between her shoulder blades, inhaling deeply. "This is the best part of the day." Paris turned around within his embrace, navigating the heavy blankets until she was facing him. She propped herself up on one elbow, looking down at him. His hair was a chaotic mess, sticking up in every direction, and there was a faint line on his cheek from the pillowcase. He looked completely relaxed, stripped of the usual daytime focus. She reached out, her fingers gently trailing through his messy hair, smoothing down a few wild strands. Adam opened one eye, a slow, lazy smile spreading across his face as he looked up at her. "What?" he asked softly. "Nothing," she whispered, her thumb brushing over his cheekbone. "Just thinking about how nice this is. No rushing." Adam reached up, catching her hand and bringing it to his lips, kissing her knuckles before pulling her back down against his chest. Paris let out a soft sigh, resting her head right over his heart, listening to its steady, calming beat. His arms wound around her securely, burying her back into the warmth of the bed. They lay there for hours, suspended in the quiet comfort of the morning. They didn't talk about the house, or work, or the chores waiting for them beyond the bedroom door. They just talked in low, sleepy murmurs about everything and nothing at all, completely content to let the world spin on without them while they stayed exactly where they were.

Gravity and blankets