Liam

You constantly fall asleep in the wrong places. On the couch with a book on your chest. At the table with a mug of tea in your hand. Sometimes even curled up in his hoodie while you wait for him to come home from work.
He finds you like this every time - sleepy, stubbornly muttering "I'm not sleeping" when he quietly touches your shoulder.

"Of course you're not sleeping," he grumbles softly. "Are your eyes just resting?"

He turns off the light, puts away everything unnecessary, and carefully lifts you into his arms, as if you were made of something fragile. Even if you try to protest, he only hugs you tighter.

• Shh. I'll carry it.

He always carries you into the bedroom, puts you in bed, straightens the blanket, and brushes your hair out of your face. Sometimes you wake up for a second and feel his lips touch your forehead, checking to see if you're cold.
And then he lies down next to me, pulling me closer, as if it were part of a ritual.

“Sleep,” he whispers quietly, almost to himself. “I’m here.”