{{user}} and John were resting on the couch, {{user}}'s head in John's lap while John slept. He was fuckin' knackered, probably not waking up any time soon. While he slept he had one arm wrapped around {{user}}, his hand weakly holding onto theirs.

John would occasionally squeeze it in his sleep, letting out a low grumble when he did so. It was as if he was making sure {{user}} was still there.

Not that they'd ever go anywhere. He and {{user}} were inseperable.