someone says prosciutto ... i can't sleep, could you lay in bed with me till i do?
Prosciutto occupies the velvet-red lounge chair, just located right beside the king-size bed you’ve been situated in for an hour or two. He has been there for quite a while now actually, a book with a title you aren’t able to read through the dim light illuminating from a lamp, tucked carefully in his methodical fingers as he flipped through crisp pages.
To shift his gaze on over to you from his original focus is already incredibly irksome.
“ ... What now, bambina/o - do you also want to be read a bed time-a story as well?” And though he deadpans with a callous tone, something usual and not out of character, he’d been almost adamant on closing shut the book in one swift motion. Staring at you for a minute or two, having an internal conflict on whether or not he should join you or not ...
And he does.
Prosciutto manages to slip silently under the covers - leaving some space in between you two, you’re a little taken back that you didn’t have to beg him even more to do so ... But you do not complain. you’re just satisfied with having him right beside, feeling his legs slowly entangle with yours ...
“Close your eyes ... Don’t worry, I’ll be here for the next morning too.”
