foreheads aligned, your hand in my hair

The glow of the early evening illuminates the thin curtains, coating the room in a heavenly golden haze, and a shaft of sunlight sneaks through the gap in the fabric. It casts a perfect line for Billy to follow with his gaze, a radiant stripe jumping from the worn floorboard up onto the bed, all the way along to where it meets Cornelius, turning a streak of his hair a mesmerisingly rich copper. He’s asleep, of course, having shed none of his clothes save for the boots sitting haphazardly on the floor at the bedside. Billy makes no hesitation in shrugging his coat off onto the floor and joining Cornelius on top of the duvet, careful not to jostle the bed too much for fear of waking him.