I don't want him to wake up.
I don't want him to leave.
I don't want the day to start.
I don't want practice.
I don't want hockey.
I don't want any of it.
I just want this.
His heartbeat slow and steady against my ribs.
The room still dark enough to pretend the rest of the world doesn't exist.
For one selfish, impossible moment, I let myself imagine that this is normal.
That this is my life.
That I get to wake up with him tomorrow.
That years from now I'll still know exactly how he looks when he's asleep.
How he steals blankets.
How he curls closer without realizing it.
How he makes these little sounds when he's dreaming.
The thought hits so hard I have to close my eyes.
Because I want it.
I want something I've spent my entire life convincing myself I didn't need.
Something I don't even know how to ask for.
My throat tightens.
Rhys shifts against me.
Just a little.
His hand tightens once in his sleep where it's resting against my stomach.
Like he's making sure I'm still here.
Nobody has ever looked for me in their sleep before.
Nobody has ever made me feel like I want to stay.
I stare down at him.
At the dark hair falling across his forehead.
At the trust of this.
