Noah woke at six nineteen to the hard, steady beat of Adrian's heart beneath his ear.

For several seconds, comfort overruled memory. Adrian's body curved around his back, one arm heavy across Noah's waist. Their linked hands rested against Noah's stomach. The room was cold beyond the blankets and warm everywhere Adrian touched him.

Then Noah remembered the confession, the sleepwalking, and his own decision to close the distance between them.

He opened his eyes.

Adrian was already awake.

"How long have you been staring at the ceiling?" Noah asked.

"Twenty-seven minutes."

"That is a terrifyingly exact answer."

"I checked the clock."

"Why didn't you move?"

Adrian's arm loosened immediately. "I didn't want to wake you."

The loss of pressure felt like a draft.

Noah rolled onto his back. Their faces were closer than he expected. Morning softened Adrian's usual severity; dark stubble shadowed his jaw, and one side of his hair had flattened against the pillow.

"You look almost human," Noah said.

"You drooled on my shirt."

"I take it back."

Adrian sat up, creating distance with brutal efficiency. "I have training."

"Right."

"The clinic opens at eight. I wrote down the number."

"Of course you did."

Adrian hesitated at the door. "About last night—"

"I asked you to stay."

"You did."

"And you behaved with tragic honor."

"Noah."

"We'll talk after class."

Adrian studied him, then nodded. "After class."

He left for the boathouse. By the time Noah came out of the shower, there was coffee in the pot and the clinic number on a yellow note beside his laptop.

Marcus found the note ten minutes later.

"Sleep Disorders Center?" He looked up. "Are you dying?"

"Apparently I wander around at night."

"You do."

Noah froze. "You knew?"

Marcus opened the refrigerator. "I saw Kovacs steering you out of the kitchen once. You were carrying a spatula and talking about ultramarine."

"Why did no one tell me?"

"I assumed you knew. Also, he gave me the look."

"What look?"

Marcus arranged his face into a poor imitation of Adrian's glare. "If you embarrass him, I will remove your spine through your mouth."

"Adrian does not look like that."

"You don't see the version the rest of us get."

Noah scheduled an appointment for the following Thursday. The nurse asked about stress, caffeine, medication, alcohol, and whether he had a reliable person who could observe future episodes safely.

Noah glanced at the note in Adrian's precise handwriting.

"Yes," he said. "Very reliable."

Adrian did not appear at lunch. He did not wait outside Noah's afternoon seminar. When Noah returned to the suite, the blue mug had disappeared from the drying rack.

At first Noah appreciated the distance. He had learned in one night that his body had been doing things without his knowledge and that his most intimidating roommate had been quietly in love with him. Processing should have required solitude.

Instead, every empty space felt shaped like Adrian.

At five thirty Noah texted him.

Where are you?

The reply came a minute later.

Library.

Noah: You hate the library.

Adrian: It is quiet.

Noah: So is your room.

Adrian: You need space.

Noah stared at the screen.

Noah: I said I needed time. I did not ask you to disappear.

Three dots appeared. Vanished. Reappeared.

Adrian: I don't know the difference.

The honesty hurt.

Noah: Come home and learn.

Adrian returned forty minutes later carrying two textbooks he had almost certainly not opened. He stopped inside the suite as though Noah might send him away.

"I made rules," Noah said.

Adrian removed his coat. "Of course you did."

"One: no more hiding medical information about me from me."

"Agreed."

"Two: no entering my room while I'm asleep unless I'm in immediate danger."

"Agreed."

"Three: if I sleepwalk into your room, wake me if possible. If not, guide me back here."

Adrian's expression did not change, but disappointment moved through his eyes.

Noah continued. "Unless I tell you otherwise before I go to sleep."

"That is unsafe."

"Sleeping beside you is not a medical intervention. It's a separate choice."

Adrian held very still.

"Four," Noah said, "you are allowed to talk to me like a person you like. You don't have to retreat every time I notice."

"That may be difficult."

"Practice. Tell me something you wanted to say today."

Adrian looked at him for a long moment.

"Your green sweater makes your eyes look warmer."

Noah glanced down. "This old thing?"

"You asked what I wanted to say."

"I did." Heat climbed his neck. "Good practice."

Adrian moved toward the kitchenette. "Is there a fifth rule?"

"Yes."

He turned.

"Ask me on a date."

Adrian's face became unreadable.

"That is not a rule."

"Fine. It's an assignment."

"When?"

"Now would be traditional."

Adrian set his keys on the counter with great care. "Noah Bennett, will you have dinner with me tomorrow?"

"Too formal."

"You are criticizing the assignment while I perform it."

"I'm giving feedback."

Adrian crossed the room until only a step remained between them. "Have dinner with me tomorrow."

The command should not have worked. It did.

Noah smiled. "Yes."

Adrian's gaze dropped briefly to his mouth.

"Was that all?" Noah asked.

"For tonight."

"Tragic honor again?"

"Rule four," Adrian said. "I want to kiss you. I am choosing not to until after the date."

Then he walked away, leaving Noah speechless in the middle of the suite.

Noah spent the next hour choosing clothes and rejecting each choice for communicating too much. The black shirt looked intentional. The blue sweater looked soft. The green sweater had already received Adrian's approval, which made wearing it feel like surrender.

Marcus returned during the crisis and found the bed covered in fabric.

"Funeral or date?"

"Dinner."

"With Kovacs."

It was not a question.

Noah held up two shirts. "Which says I am interested but retain independent judgment?"

Marcus pointed to the green sweater. "That one says he complimented it and you have thought about the compliment for nine hours."

"I hate you."

"Wear the black shirt, then."

Noah wore the green sweater.

When Adrian saw him the next evening, his eyes warmed before his expression could hide it. The reaction made every minute of indecision worthwhile.