Notes Between Seasons

The room was still, washed in a pale blush of early light that crept in through the edges of the curtain. The faint rustle of leaves whispered against the windowpane, stirred by a gentle morning breeze. In the distance, the low, rhythmic hum of the city beginning to stir; tires on wet asphalt, the faint clang of a bin lid, a dog barking two streets away, added a quiet pulse to the silence.

Somewhere nearby, a bird trilled a tentative note, as if testing the morning. Another answered, and then another, until a soft chorus of birdsong rose like a lullaby in reverse, rousing instead of soothing, gently coaxing the world awake.

But within these four walls, time had not yet resumed. Everything inside was muffled and slowed, softened by the hush of morning, like the air itself had thickened to cradle the moment. The sheets rustled faintly with each breath, and even the tick of the clock on the nightstand felt more like a heartbeat than timekeeping.

Elias woke first.

His eyes opened slowly, reluctantly, as though his body was hesitant to leave the peace of sleep. A soft exhale passed his lips as he blinked once, twice, adjusting to the light that painted the room in muted gold and washed-out grey. Somewhere beyond the curtains, a distant car door clicked shut, then silence again.

It took him a second to remember exactly where he was until he felt her.

Anya.

Her bare shoulder peeked out from under the edge of the blanket, the curve of it kissed by the morning light. Her dark hair spilled like ink across the pillow they shared, catching hints of auburn where the sun touched it. She was turned slightly toward him, one hand curled near her face, her breathing soft and even each inhale and exhale a delicate rhythm he could feel as much as hear.

Elias didn't move at first. He just watched.

There was a quiet awe in his gaze, the kind that only comes when something precious lies right in front of you, unguarded, unfiltered, and real. Her breath made the faintest sound: a soft fluttering inhale, a contented sigh. His heart felt oddly full and fragile at once, like a violin string tuned just a breath too tight. How had he gotten here, in this quiet morning with this woman who somehow made everything feel weightless?

His hand moved gently beneath the covers, fabric whispering with the motion, brushing a lock of hair away from her cheek with careful fingers. She didn't stir; only sighed again, the sound barely audible, pressing further into the pillow. The faintest smile ghosted across her lips, and Elias felt his own tug into a matching curve.

He could have stayed like that forever.

Outside, the birds kept singing.

Memories from the night before drifted in slowly… not as flashes, but as sensations: the sound of her laughter as they whispered in the dark, the way she had said his name; soft and low, like it held history. The rustle of the sheets when she turned toward him. The hitch in her breath when he kissed her shoulder. The steady rhythm of her heartbeat beneath his hand. The way she held him, kissed him, opened to him.

And now, in the hush between night and day, all of it lingered in the air like perfume quiet, golden, and real.

It hadn't just been physical. It had felt... transformative.

Elias swallowed against the sudden tightness in his throat.

He hadn't expected this; whatever this was between them…. to hit so hard, so fast. But lying beside her, listening to the soft cadence of her breath, he knew something had changed in him. Not just last night, but over time. Quietly. Permanently.

He reached for her hand beneath the blanket, gently wrapping his fingers around hers.

She stirred then.

A slow, sleepy breath escaped her lips, and her brow furrowed slightly as though resisting the pull of waking. Her fingers tightened reflexively around his, and then, slowly, her eyes fluttered open.

She blinked up at him, still heavy with sleep. "Hey..." Her voice was husky, warm, laced with dreams.

"Hey," Elias whispered, his thumb brushing her knuckles. "Sorry. Didn't mean to wake you."

She smiled sleepily. "Mmm... it's okay. You're warm."

"That's probably because you stole all the blanket," he teased softly.

Anya lifted her head slightly, glancing down at how the blanket was wrapped around her like a cocoon. "Oh... oops."

Elias grinned, leaning in to kiss her forehead gently. "You looked too peaceful to disturb. Like some smug little burrito."

She gave a quiet, sleepy laugh and nudged him with her foot. "I'm not smug. I was just... comfy."

"Uh-huh. Blanket thief and smug," he smirked, shifting a little closer, their legs brushing beneath the sheets. "I should start charging rent for how much bed space you take up."

"You were the one spooning me," she shot back, smirking with half-lidded eyes. "I'm just an innocent bystander."

"Innocent?" Elias snorted softly, cocking an eyebrow. "You? After last night?"

Anya's face went crimson, and she half-buried it into the pillow with a groan. "Don't."

"Oh, I absolutely will," he chuckled, poking her side gently. "You can't blush and hide after saying all those sweet, filthy things last night."

She peeked up at him through her lashes, still smiling despite herself. "You started it."

"I did," he agreed, voice lowering. "And you? You finished it. Gloriously."

Anya covered her face with both hands now, laughing under her breath. "Why are you like this?"

He leaned in, nudging her hands aside so he could see her again. His grin softened into something more sincere as his fingers tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Because I like making you smile like that. I like this version of you. Soft and sleepy... wrapped up in my arms. And still trying to sass me."

She yawned, her fingers brushing along the curve of his jaw. "How long have you been awake?"

"A while," he admitted, eyes tracing the slope of her shoulder. "Just... thinking."

"Thinking?"

His gaze searched hers for a moment. "About you. About us. Last night."

Anya's cheeks flushed with color, but it was a different kind of blush; softer, shy, but content. Her smile faded into something more thoughtful.

"Was it too much?" she asked quietly, her voice threading with a rare kind of uncertainty. "Too soon?"

Elias frowned slightly, his hand moving to cradle her cheek with feather-light tenderness. "No. God, no. It was... everything. You were... are everything."

Her eyes shimmered with something he couldn't name. She leaned into his touch.

"I still feel like I'm dreaming," she murmured.

He leaned in, pressing a kiss to the tip of her nose. "You're not. I checked."

She smiled against his lips when they kissed again, slow and sweet, unhurried. It wasn't the kind of kiss meant to lead anywhere. It was a good morning sealed in a shared breath.

Anya pulled back slightly, her expression still sleepy and soft, her fingertips resting over his heart. "You really mean that?" she asked. "About last night?"

Elias's voice dropped, threaded with the weight of his honesty. "I've never felt anything like that before. Not just what we did… but how it felt. Being close to you. You looking at me like that. It was real. Like it actually meant somethin."

Anya looked at him for a long moment, eyes wide and vulnerable, as if measuring the truth in his voice. Then, slowly, she nodded. "It did. To me, too."

He exhaled, tension melting from his shoulders. "Good. Because I was worried I'd wake up and you'd be halfway out the door in one of my shirts."

She snorted. "Please. If I was gonna steal something, It'd be that ridiculously soft hoodie you wore the first time we saw each other, at the restaurant. You looked up, and everything just… shifted. Still haven't stopped thinking about it."

"Oh, that's what you were after this whole time. Not my heart; just my hoodie."

"Well," she grinned slyly, "I mean... your heart is cute, but that hoodie? Top tier."

Elias laughed, rolling onto his back for a second, then turned to her again, resting his arm under his head. "You're trouble, you know that?"

"I've heard," she said, biting her lip in mock innocence.

He reached out and ran a hand slowly down her back beneath the sheets, letting his fingers pause at the curve of her waist. His voice dropped lower, teasing again. "You didn't seem too innocent last night... especially not when you…"

She shoved him lightly, her eyes wide with laughter and warning. "Do not finish that sentence."

He leaned in anyway, lips brushing against her ear, and whispered something low something just for her.

Whatever he said made her freeze for a second... then bury her face in his chest, squealing. "Elias!"

He grinned smugly, clearly proud of himself. "What? I'm just reminding you."

She swatted at his shoulder, still hiding her face. "That is so unfair. It's too early for that."

"It's never too early for making you blush," he murmured, kissing the top of her head.

"You're impossible."

"And you're adorable when you're flustered," he said, holding her a little tighter, their bodies slotting together effortlessly again.

The sheets rustled softly as she shifted closer, pressing a kiss to the underside of his jaw. "I hate how much I like you."

He chuckled, his fingers trailing light patterns on her spine. "You'll survive."

She sighed against his skin. "Barely."

They lay there a little longer, bodies tangled, laughter lingering in the air like warmth between them. Morning light stretched lazily across the bed, and for a moment, the world outside could wait. Inside this room, inside each other's arms, everything felt simpler. Whole.

And when Elias whispered something else; far less teasing this time, something about the way she made him feel like home…. Anya didn't blush.

She just smiled.

Because she believed him.

He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close again. Their bodies fit like a secret they'd kept for too long, finally spoken aloud. The silence between them wasn't empty… it pulsed with warmth, the kind of quiet that only exists between two people who have been changed by the night.

They stayed like that, tangled in golden morning light and something too tender to name. His breath was steady at her back. Her fingers traced idle circles on his forearm. Everything outside the room felt irrelevant.

Eventually, Anya stirred slightly. Her voice came low, a little husky. "Are you hungry?"

Elias let out a soft laugh, his lips brushing the back of her shoulder. "Now that you mention it... starving."

She rolled onto her back, stretching with a lazy sigh as the sheet slipped lower, catching just at her chest. "I think I saw eggs and bread in the fridge last night. I could make toast."

He propped himself up on one elbow, gaze skimming slowly down her frame before returning to her eyes. "You cooking in nothing but my sheet?" His voice dropped a little, teasing, thick with affection. "That might kill me."

Anya arched a brow, turning her head to face him fully. "Then maybe I'll let you cook while I supervise," she said, mouth curving into a smirk. "From a safe distance. Dressed in... exactly this."

Elias groaned, dragging a hand over his face. "You are so not playing fair."

"Never claimed I would," she said, pulling the sheet tighter around herself as she sat up, her skin glowing in the soft morning light. "Besides, I've earned it."

He sat up beside her, brushing a kiss against her shoulder before standing and stretching, the muscles in his back flexing under golden light. Anya's eyes lingered, tracing the lines of him; the lean strength, the quiet confidence in the way he moved. He wasn't just beautiful in that obvious, physical sense. There was something else. Something raw, honest.

She swallowed the sudden ache in her chest.

He turned and caught her looking. That same slow smile crept across his face, the one that started in his eyes and worked its way down to her spine.

"What?" he asked, stepping toward her.

"Nothing," she said, shaking her head, though her voice was softer. "You're just... different this morning."

Elias paused, expression unreadable for a second. Then he crouched in front of her, hands on either side of her legs. "Good different?"

Her fingers reached out instinctively, brushing back his hair. "Yeah. Good," she whispered. "Real."

He leaned into her touch. "That's how it feels, doesn't it?"

Anya nodded. "Like something shifted, but not in a way that took anything away. More like..." She hesitated, then finished in a murmur, "...more like I found a piece I didn't know I was missing."

Elias exhaled, forehead resting briefly against her knee. "If you'd told me weeks ago I'd be in a stranger's apartment, half-naked and grinning like an idiot over morning toast, I wouldn't have believed you."

She smiled faintly. "You didn't look like a toast kind of guy."

He looked up at her, something tender and sharp all at once in his gaze. "I wasn't. But then... I looked up and saw you across the restaurant in that hoodie. And it was like…"

She blinked. "You were the one in the hoodie."

"I did," he said simply. "I think I noticed everything that night."

There was a quiet moment between them then. Not heavy, just full; like a pause before something important.

She reached out and touched his hand. "That was a good night."

He laced their fingers together. "This one's better."

Anya laughed softly, a little shy now. "We should probably get up."

"We should," Elias agreed. But he didn't move, just squeezed her hand gently. "In a minute."

He caught it easily and tossed it back onto the bed, then leaned closer, voice lowering into something that made her stomach flutter. "Ridiculous enough to remember exactly how your eyes narrowed when you tried not to stare at me. Or how your mouth twitched like you were deciding whether I was worth the trouble."

Anya's breath caught slightly, her heart tapping faster. "And?"

He leaned in, close enough for his breath to brush her skin. "Worth every second," he murmured.

She felt her blush bloom high on her cheeks and tried to look away, but his fingers gently tilted her chin back toward him.

Elias smiled softly, then leaned in to whisper against her ear…slow, warm words that made her spine straighten and her breath hitch. Not crude, not even overtly explicit; but intimate. Bold. Wickedly gentle.

Things he wanted to do again. How he'd been thinking about the sound she made when he kissed her neck. The way she sighed his name when her nails dug into his shoulders. What it would be like to taste her skin right now, sun-warmed and sleep-sweet.

Her cheeks flamed.

"Elias!" she whispered, scandalized and grinning all at once, trying to hide her face in the sheet.

He laughed, low and pleased, pulling her closer again. "What? Just saying what's on my mind."

"You're evil."

"I'm honest."

Anya shook her head, breathless from smiling, and tucked herself into the crook of his neck. "You're trouble."

"You have no idea."

But she did.

And still, she stayed curled against him, heart full and humming with something too big to name yet. Something she didn't need to rush to define.

This, whatever it was wasn't a moment borrowed from someone else's story.

It was theirs.

And it was just the beginning.