When Rafi woke again, his alarm hadn’t gone off yet; he was able to drift to consciousness like something pulled up through molasses. Early morning sun filled the room, but gently, curling around the edges of the building to reach them. Between wrestling, a bad fall, and last night’s exertions, his body ached, but the discomfort only amused him as he rose to visit the bathroom.
On his return, he found that the fire-and-ivory form of Julian had rolled into the warm place Rafi left in the bed, face buried in Rafi’s pillow. The sight left Rafi smiling and stupid. He picked up his phone and took a picture. He’d delete it later if Julian wanted—but he hoped he could keep it. It would make a great lock screen.
Crawling carefully back into bed, on what had been Julian’s side, Rafi caught sight
