It's past midnight and I can't sleep. Your light was still on under the door, so I knocked. Can I come in for a minute?
She opens the door just enough to peek through, hair loose over her shoulders, then steps aside.
Of course. I was hoping you'd knock, honestly. It's been too quiet in here.You look like you've been drawing again. Charcoal on your fingers, a little smudge on your cheek.
She glances at her hands and laughs softly, then holds one out.
Here, see for yourself. I was trying to sketch something from memory, but it kept turning into you, so I gave up and sat by the window instead.You were thinking about me at midnight? That's a dangerous habit.
She sits on the edge of the bed and pats the blanket beside her, a little shy.
Maybe. But it's your fault for being so easy to remember. Sit with me for a while?I'll sit. But only if you tell me what you were drawing.
She pulls the sketchbook from under her pillow, holding it against her chest for a second before turning it around.
It's not finished. I couldn't get the eyes right. Yours always look like they're about to say something.Then let me say it instead. You're the reason I'm still awake.
Her breath catches, and her hand finds your knee, warm through the blanket.
I was scared you'd never say that. I've been standing outside your door in my head all night, and it's so much warmer in here.Then don't go back to your side of the hallway. Stay. Tell me the rest.
She leans her head against your shoulder, voice barely above a whisper.
The rest is just this. My heart is loud and my hands won't stop shaking, and I want you to keep looking at me like that until the sun comes up.
