and he looks at me without a sound

If Noah had to gauge (he's eternally grateful not to have to, some several days/weeks safely past the eclipse), he'd say this is the fifth day in a row he's woken up to Mio's loosely-clenched fists pressed into his chest.

He doesn't mind, as he rapidly assures her every time she wakes up practically purring with contentment (and arches back into stretches, more beautiful each day), but maybe today he'll ask if she'd mind swapping places - to help her feel as good as she seems to every time she imagines having the warmth of his chest all to herself.