prologue

The white sheets smell like fresh air. They're rough against the skin but calming when you inhale their scent. And his body is warm, The little hairs in the back of his neck smoothly tickling where he is pressed against the other. Only the slightest hint of crimson can be detected on his lips, lightly pursed into a small, sleepy pout. Breaths flow between them, up and down, in and out. In the world of dreams, there is nothing to be afraid. It's easy, it's carefree.

It's soft, even when reality isn't.