Luke knew your sleeping pattern better than he knew his own. Granted, his was often different — shifting across cities and continents until he was constantly chasing the stability of time. His sleeping pattern was sporadic; awake some nights, dead to the world some days. But your sleeping pattern, he knew that by heart. He recognised the shift in your breathing as you wrestled with sheets trying to settle again; he knew the gentle nudge of your nose against his arm, his neck, his back, was a silent indication that you had stirred from your dreams.
Like clockwork your eyes scrunched open somewhere between 4 and 5am every night, stinging as they blinked against their will. Some nights they woke to an empty bed, pillows untouched by the messy curls of Luke’s head, his dreams instead taking place in hotels around the world or in the back of a bus. Other nights your boyfriend lay awake beside you, scrolling through playlists on his phone or rewetching Bojack Horseman on netflix — again. Those nights were among your favourite; his gentle face turning towards you as you wriggled closer and pulled his headphones from the laptop so you could join in. You almost never got beyond one episode, typically smiling yourself to sleep as Luke huffed out little laughs. Some nights he was out cold, and though you enjoyed his company in the dark of the hours just before sunrise, you loved the nights his rest went uninterrupted. His chest rising and falling under blankets, arm tossed above his head and the space against his side ready to be occupied by you once more. Those were your favourite; a perfect opportunity to admire his broad frame without his eyes catching you with a teasing grin. A perfect opportunity, too, to bask in the quiet comfort of his presence after weeks on end without him.
this is the beginning of something longer that my brain just can’t get done atm but i like it so i’m sharing in case i never do