here began all my dreams

The light from the porch is dim where it filters in through the blinds, but Jonathan’s eyes have adjusted enough that he can make out the shapes around him. The full glass of water on the table next to the couch where Steve lays curled up on his side, his back to the rest of the room. The only sign he’s awake being his fidgeting hands, running over the texture of the blanket like it soothes him.“How’re you feeling?” Jonathan keeps his voice soft, quiet as possible in case anything louder might make the ache worse."Like shit."