#this drawing

The sun poured into the room through the window, shining on his face. He had fallen asleep at the foot of his statue.

He talked to it last night. Well, more so mumbled abstract thoughts. Prayers that developed into pleads. Messy kisses painted along the cool, smooth marble. He longed for it to be warm, and for it to move under his touch.

He was lonely. God, he was so lonely.

He felt drunk. He hadn’t had a lick of alcohol and yet he felt out of it. The rain outside didn’t help. His mind was buzzing. Until it eventually lulled him to sleep.

His joints popped and cracked quietly as he stretched, reaching out for his statue. He remembered he had rested his hand over the foot of his statue, something about knowing it was there helped him sleep.

The only problem was he couldn’t feel it anymore.

A couple pats around and he feels a hand over his. A warm hand. His eyes fling open and he flinches, not expecting that. His eyes immediately land on a face in front of his.

Fair skin. Auburn hair. Green eyes.

Oh, my God.

The figure smiles.

“Good morning.”

David.

It was David.

His statue David.

He blinks a couple times. He had to be dreaming. There was no way this was happening. Just mear hours ago he was stiff, cold marble. He remembers very distinctly how cold it felt.

But it stood right in front of him. He. He stood right in front of him. He wasn’t an it anymore. David was never an it. His sharp features he has painstakingly carved out were there. Plain as day. Clear as day? Ah, who cares.

He rubs his eyes just to make sure what was happening was happening, and then realized David was politely waiting for a response.

“Oh.”

His voice sounded unnatural.

“Hi.”

David tilted his head, a charming smile making his eyes squint a little. It made his heart flutter.

“Did you sleep well?” David asked. He sat up, sitting in a more comfortable position, but never breaking eye contact with his David.

“Yeah.” His joints were saying otherwise, but he could bear it. Almost ignore it.

He noticed David was wearing a big cloth over himself. The cloth he usually placed on top of him when leaving the home or going to bed.

He hesitantly lifted his hand up and reached over, cupping the other man's face.

Warm.

It was warm.

Like the sun had come down and kissed his skin.

David leaned into the touch, and he wanted to weep.

“You’re so beautiful,” the phrase spilled out of his mouth. David huffed out a small, pleasant laugh.

“What is your name?”

“What?”

Oh, yes. He had never said his name out loud in front of his statue. He felt bad, as if the statue could’ve heard him the entire time it was being built. Could it?

“Oh. Jasper. My name is Jasper,” he responded. His own name sounded foreign to him, he rarely ever said it.

The other man smiled, bringing his hand up to place over Jaspers.

“What a handsome name.”

Jasper's breath felt knocked out of him. It took him a moment to compose himself the best he could.