He hums, already half gone as I bury my face in his hair.
Tomorrow…back to Heatherfell.
The one place that never feels like home, no matter how many Christmas lights they hang to cover up their dark shit.
Chapter forty-six
Tom
The soft light filtering through the curtains hits my eyes as I wake up. My face scrunches, a groan of pure protest making it past my vocal cords. I roll over to the empty space beside me. The sheets are cold.
I’m used to it. Yosh is an early-morning rooster, while I’m more of a night owl.
I drop my head onto his pillow and breathe in. His scent is still here, herbal and fresh, like the morning itself. It makes me miss him more, even when I know he can’t be far.
A dull sound from the living room confirms that.
My eyes are still heavy with sleep, but the need to see him wins. Last night ruined me. Somewhere between his arms and the way our eyes locked when he filled me, he took my heart. For a guy like me, that’s pretty problematic. In a good way this time.
I shove the covers off and roll out of bed, smiling to myself.
At the closet, I grab the first thing I see, a white shirt and my old baggy tartan pajama pants.
My feet hit the cold floor. I put my glasses on and hurry to the living room. I need caffeine. Theine. Whatever. And him.
The door creaks sharply as I open it. The parquet floor complaints too, both sounds that betray my entrance, but Yosh doesn’t respond. He’s sitting on the dark oak windowsill, eyes fixed on the outside world.
I lean against the frame and let my eyes wander over him, the way the pale morning light casts a glow.
He’s holding a steamy cup of tea, fingers disappearing into the sleeves of a hoodie. My hoodie. Printed on the back is a large blue butterfly with a skull, my own cover design. His long, silky black hair is hidden, only the cut of a bob showing.
I watch as pulls up his knees and nestles deeper into the soft cotton. I get it. It’s cold behind the glass.
He’s so fucking beautiful.
I raise my thumbs and index fingers, framing him like a photograph.
And when I focus a little more, I see snowflakes falling on the other side of the window.
“We might get a white Christmas after all,” I say, and when he turns, he gives me his brightest smile.
“Morning, Sapphire.” He stands and hugs me for a long moment, the warmth of the ceramic mug radiating onto my back. I kiss him good morning.
We both sit down opposite each other on the windowsill.
I watch the snow cover the bicycles and boats like a soft white blanket. The streets are almost empty, and when someone cycles past, their tracks disappear within seconds.
Yosh reaches for the side table. Only then do I notice a second mug steaming there; he’d been expecting me.
When I take a sip, I feel his eyes on me, studying my posture, my expressions. He leans back to take in every detail.
“You look like a gingerbread man in those cozy flannels. Makes me want to take a bite out of your waist. Any chance you’ve got a pair I can steal?”
Of course. He always nicks my stuff, but usually they just vanish from my closet and magically reappear on his body.And whenever I say something about it he just blows me a kiss and tells me he looks good in my shirts.
I grin. “Alright. Can be arranged. I’m going to make a Scot out of you yet.”
“No need for that,” he says softly, still smiling.
