█▐ ❆ ࿐ᐤ EYELIDS CLOSED AGAINST the dim light of dawn, Gray watched as Lyon’s breathing shallowed &&. relaxed ; all the muscles in his face and body catalyzed a cease. Not a twitch, not a spasm — hardly any movement of his thorax accommodating a soft RISE & FALL with each intake of air … such was the depth of his oblivion.

        God, how he was CHEEKY.  Cheeky bastard.  And he was arrogant.  And cynical.  And all the past-tenses before the now tamed Lyon, seemingly enraptured by an inevitable slumber – his granite features unveiled such placidity.  He was Lyon.  And Lyon has his SIDES, gentle perhaps —– gentle actually, that the man himself refused to express. Refused to show. Refused to accept.

       &&. GRAY ENJOYED WATCHING HIM.

        Lyon was beautiful in his sleep, but it wasn’t in that glossy, feature-perfect way every girl thought he was beautiful; it was real in a way Gray could appreciate without envy or spite. Sweaty. Rumpled. Vulnerable. Serene. When Lyon was ASLEEP, all the bullshit that came along with the pretty package &&. vast talent – his coyness and massive ego, his affections and ruthless ambition — melted away; when Lyon was asleep, he became what the whole WORLD thought he was.

A hand was lowered, gingerly, &&. brush a few locks of silver fringe away from his pale face.

         ( He was Lyon. He is Lyon. This is Lyon. )

        AND GRAY WATCHED. Watched as he, himself, subconsciously INCHED his own face down to the level of Lyon’s vulnerability ; feeling his cold breath gliding against Lyon’s sealed lips, feeling his heart thrummed SYMPHONIES inside his chest, feeling — feeling himself stop. Realized. Retreated…

⠀

And instead he pinched at his friend’s cheeks, hard.

                ❛  … Wake up, asshole.  ❜

       But the flesh was delicate — it was soft.
Just like Lyon. The Lyon on the inside.

          ❛  You looked stupid when you were asleep, you know.  ❜