The sheets rub against her skin, making Lea wince. But Romeo finds it incredibly sweet, and holding her waist, he pulls her a little closer.
He asks carefully straightening the crumpled fabric, smoothing the surface of the bed, and placing a small, soft pillow under her head. Lea doesn't answer, simply staring at the silhouette through the dim light. She can't see his blue eyes, can't discern the shimmer of his golden locks. But she feels his warmth, his scent, hears his voice. She can't mistake these gentle touches, these tender gestures for anything else. His palms touching hers, his intertwined fingers, his soft whispers, languid and relaxing. The way he leans closer and touches his nose to the tip of her neat little nose, cool and slightly flushed. He doesn't see her embarrassment, but he feels her racing heart, her uneven breathing, the pulsing arteries where his pulse is felt. She's more visible now than ever; she's not trying to hide it, only trying to appear as others are accustomed to seeing her. But Romeo knows her even better than she knows herself, and so he wins this "battle" effortlessly.
She whispers, closing her eyes as his lips rest on her neck, leaving a phantom sensation of lingering touch.
The young stalker pauses for a second and buries his nose in his shoulder. Soft and strangely familiar arms wrap around him and close at his back, as if holding on to their last ray of hope. Pressing him tighter, afraid of losing him, afraid of being a mirage, afraid of being nothing more than a memory.
– Just call me by my name now... At least now...
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