Moira

34.

What woke me the next morning wasn't the bright rays in my face peeking through the large window.

It wasn't the birds singing loudly outside of it, and it wasn't the soft rustling of the wind.

Neither was it the crickets chirping or the distant sound of a coffee machine whizzing.

Instead, it was soft movements to my left that made a low, sleepy groan escape my lips, my head burying itself in the soft pillow beneath me. My own movement had the one beside me stop in its tracks almost unnaturally quick.

Which, in return, made me cautiously halt in mine, ears perked as my head slowly turned, eyes opening simultaneously.

They immediately fell on the dark brown mess beside me, Esmond's own face buried so deep in his pillow, the only part of it visible was half of his left eye, the other half hidden behind the dark curtain of hair.

His eyes were squeezed together tighter than I would've expected — I wondered if he always slept on his stomach, with his forehead tense and one arm unnaturally bent while the other rested on top of me.

My eyes lingering on him for a few moments longer; a small smile formed on my lips at the sight. "Are you awake?" I whispered, brows raised in anticipation as I waited for his reaction.

His nose scrunched up at the words — the smile on my lips growing wider as he shook his head gently. "No," He insisted, despite the sound of his voice entirely too clear and coherent for him to just have woken up.

An amused huff escaped my lips as I turned onto my back, eyes on the ceiling with hands stretched out in front of me, a yawn rattling through my chest. The motion made him retract his arm previously resting on top of my back.

With a sigh — the sound making me glance at him — Esmond mirrored my gesture, turning from his stomach onto his back. "How did you sleep?" He asked, head tilted to the side to look at me.

My eyes found his as soon as my own head turned, the small smile on his lips reinforcing mine. Taking a deep breath, I nodded. "Good," I hummed contently. "Probably better than I would've on the couch."

He propped himself up on his elbow now, head resting in his hand as a lopsided grin graced his features. His face inevitably closer to mine, he followed up with a "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

My voice had dropped to a whisper again, the smell of citrus lingering in my nose and clouding at least one of my senses. My eyes flickered over his face, messy hair hanging into it as his head was tilted downwards to look at me, full lashes batting against his skin when he blinked and his brows just slightly furrowed.

Our silent eye contact was only broken when he squeezed his eyes shut tightly, a yawn escaping his mouth, which he quickly covered with his left hand. He blinked the oncoming tears bound to accumulate in his eyes away, his hand lingering in front of his mouth for a moment; nose still scrunched up.

The feeling in my chest seemed to tighten as soon as his hand reached out for me instead of lowering. My cheeks tinting a light pink, and eyes following his movements as he tugged a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

"Esmond?" My eyes closed automatically as soon as the rough skin of his hand touched mine, my words hardly louder than the breath that escaped my lips at the same time. Still laying on my back, my head turned back towards the ceiling — and further against his hand — in hopes it would increase the pressure of his skin against mine.

"Hm?" The low sound escaping his lips made my eyes bat open lightly. The sun stood tall behind him, shining through the large window — that was actually a door out onto the terrace — and illuminating the room in soft light. It tinted his hair a lighter shade of brown, dark eyes no longer matching the usually similar shade of it.