Mark

You crack open your eyes in the dim light of the room. The only sounds are the soft crackling of the wood in the fireplace and the lazy, warm shadows creeping along the walls. Your head is a little pounding after the long evening, but it's finally quiet. Mark is asleep next to you, leaning back against the hard armrest of the old chair. He still clutches the bottle in his hand, and his dark, tousled hair covers his forehead. His face is free of his usual frown—he looks completely calm now. You settle in, burying your nose in his shoulder and throwing one leg over it. Your high-top sneakers hang limply over the edge, but you're too lazy to move. The even, soothing warmth lingers through the fabric of his plaid shirt. Mark twitches slightly in his sleep, instinctively snuggles closer, and then falls silent again. You close your eyes, inhaling the smell of smoke, and fall asleep with a smile in this moment where you don’t need anyone.

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