#emason

JASON WATCHED AS EMMA SLEPT ON THEIR SHARED BED. She slept to her side, with one hand under her cheek while the other stretched out in front of her face against the pillow. It was dark now, their lights were off and it was only the reflection of the moon’s light through their bedroom window that managed to coat them and the room with its silver luminosity.

Jason could hear his wife’s steady breathing, and the expression on her face was one he loved to see. It was why he stayed awake until she succumbed to her drowsiness. He loved how the expression on her face made her look serene and the way her hair settled near the corner of her face. She looked so lovely when she slept and he loved to admire her as she did. 

He reached out to gently brush the strands back, knowing that it might irritate her if it was kept there. In every aspect Jason saw Emma as the most beautiful woman. He didn’t believe there was anyone that could match her beauty, it wasn’t possible. Not to him. No one could ever outmatch Emma in his eyes.

She was a goddess, his goddess, and she was kind and selfless and filled with so much love. She was the only person that made him ever feel whole, complete. She made him feel like he deserved to be happy if it meant that he could do so with her. 

Emma was everything to him and she was the owner of his heart. Nothing and no one could ever change that. Jason’s eyes scanned her face, never tiring of admiring how heavenly she looked. The moon’s light only added to it, making her look otherworldly.

This reminded him of a poem he once read, and it was the very same one that reminded him of his love as he did. And despite that it was written many many years before either he or Emma were born, it felt like it was meant for her. 

 “She walks in beauty, like the night. Of cloudless climes and starry skies.” Jason began to recite in a low whisper, careful to not wake her up. “And all that's best of dark and bright. Meets in her aspect and her eyes; Thus mellow'd to that tender light.”

It was like every line was dedicated to her, and in a way it was from Jason to her. 

“Which Heaven to gaudy day denies. One shade the more, one ray the less,” he smiled softly, wondering if she could still hear him even if he kept as quiet as possible. “Had half impair'd the nameless grace. Which waves in every raven tress.” As he said the last part about her hair, he gently threaded his fingers in hers, trying to brush them back behind her shoulder. 

“Or softly lightens o'er her face: Where thoughts serenely sweet express.” That line seemed to fit too well, especially as he admired her features once more. She always had the most beautiful ways of expressing herself and her face seemed to glow when she did. Radiating that light that settled in her heart and sharing it with others she loved. 

“How pure, how dear their dwelling place.” Jason inched closer to her, trying to cover the space between them as much as could. “And on that cheek,” he lightly placed his hand on her cheek. “And o’er that brow.” He moved his hand to her brow.

“So soft.” Every part of her was soft, from her heart to her smooth skin to her lips.“So calm.” Especially so when she was asleep just like this. “Yet eloquent.” Emma always had her way when it came to him, and even then she was always so good with her words she could persuade almost anyone, but especially him. 

“The smiles that win, the tints that glow.” If he could add more to it himself he would’ve said: And makes the sun envious of her radiance. “But tell of days in goodness spent.”

“A mind at peace with all below.” He quietly cleared his throat as he came to the end of the poem. “A heart whose love is innocent.” That line had said it all when it came to Emma and the way she loved him. So pure, so innocent, and so tender. That all applied to her and her beautiful heart.

Jason placed his hand on her back as he held her close to him, attempting to let himself rest as well. But he felt her stir in his arms and wondered if he somehow managed to wake her up by accident.

“Were you talking to someone?” Her voice sounded groggy and heavy with fatigue, it made him chuckle softly at the sound along with her question.

“No,” he answered, moving back a bit just to look at her. Her eyes were barely opened, mainly squinting up at him as she rubbed her cheek. 

“That’s odd, I could have sworn I heard you speaking or something.” She yawned with her mouth covered by her hand.

“What else did you hear?” He asked, very curious to see if she caught anything.

“I didn’t hear it that well, I just knew it was your voice.” She cuddled close to him, resting her forehead against his chest. “But if it’s nothing important, then it’s okay.”

Jason nodded, wrapping his arms around her as he closed his eyes. “I’m sorry I woke you.” He placed a kiss on the top of her head.

“No, it’s okay.” She whispered sleepily. “Goodnight—again.”

He didn’t mind that she didn’t know of the poem he dedicated to her, because it didn’t change anything. It didn’t change how he believed that the poem was only intended for her and it wouldn’t stop him from reciting it any moment he had the chance to. 

Mason was halfway through the chapter when he felt something brush against the sole of his foot. He twitched once, not looking up from the page. Vectors were difficult to understand even without distractions, and he didn’t want to break his train of thought. Instead, he focused on calculations.

It came again, a deliberate line drawn up the bottom of his foot. Mason had barely paused before he felt it again. Hands clamped down on both ankles as he tried to pull his feet away. He whined, toes wiggling helplessly.

“Must you?”

"You’re not paying attention to me," Emerson replied in an equally whiny tone. "It’s not my fault you’re so ticklish." He punctuated his statement by flicking the bottom of Mason’s foot, eliciting a yelp from him.

"Emerson!"

"You know what you have to doooooo."