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Moonlight casts shadows through the slightly parted blinds, bathing the room in cool light. You lie together under a shared comforter and body heat, tucked into each other, not knowing where your limbs begin and his end. Your heavy lids peel open as you try to bury yourself deeper into him, shuffling back into his open arms and soft chest. His arms tighten around your chest, drawing you deeper as he shifts his face into the crook of your neck, breathing your scent in.  

Try as you might, you can’t get yourself to slip back under. You shift your body one more time to face him. Cameron’s head lolls deeper into the pillow from your movement; his breath shifts, then falls back into its familiar lazy rhythm. His eyes are still glued shut, peacefully unfazed by your constant turning and moving.  

You stay like this, watching him, refamiliarizing yourself with something you don’t get to see as often anymore. In his dream-like state, the stress has melted off his face. Pressure from coaches, his family, and fans is behind him. Stress leaving him just for tonight, waiting to drape over him in the morning. You enjoy this while you can, appreciating his effortless weight, comfort, and vulnerability now only present in moments like this.  

Slowing down your breath to match him, you focus on his eyes, sweeping over his face before focusing on his eyelash. Your eyes are now adjusted to the slivers of light leaking into the room, able to identify each lash and how their shadows ghost over his undereyes. Drifting a little further down, catching on to the small freckles and blemishes littering Cameron’s cheeks, some you watched appear over the course of the relationship. Each one telling a story, marks from his helmet, too long spent in the practice sun, and some stories left unknown.  

Unable to help the itch surfacing in your fingertips, your hand moves four fingers cupping the side of his face while your thumb ghosts over the apples of his freckled cheeks. You continue like this for longer than you can count. Tracing a pattern connecting each dot to one another, taking comfort in the extra warmth radiating in his cheeks. His eyes twitch once, then twice, brows scrunching up, and a huff of warm air puffs through his chest to his nose. Your finger pauses in order not to fully wake him up, eyes moving down to his chest to track his breath.  

Cameron shifts his neck one more time before cracking his eyes open, dilated pupils focused on you. “Why’d you stop?” His voice is just above a whisper, thick with raspy and deep sleep. Not responding verbally, instead you lean in pressing a small kiss on the tip of his nose. Pulling away a little, you whisper out in your own raspy voice, “Mm sorry, baby, go back to sleep.” Your hand resumes its slow pattern against his cheek, and his eyes drift back close for the rest of the night.  

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