After a long hug, Moon finally relaxes.
I feel it in the slow drop of his shoulders, in the way his breathing evens out, in how the tension drains from his body like water from a cracked vessel—slowly at first, then all at once. His eyes flutter closed, his lashes dark against pale cheeks, and within minutes, he's asleep.
I pull back gently, easing him down against the pillows, careful not to wake him. His body sinks into the mattress, his breathing slow and steady.
Once I'm sure he's settled, I move to the small couch near his bed. The cushions sigh beneath me as I find a position that doesn't strain my body, resting my elbows on the soft mattress, my chin in my hands.
And I just… look at him.
His face is different in sleep. Softer. The sharp edges are gone, the defensive walls lowered, the cold arrogance that usually masks his features dissolved into something almost vulnerable.
He looks younger like this.
Unburdened… for once.
