beautiful.

that was the only word that came to mind as you watched fyodor's face from up-close. his head lay in your lap as he read a book–completely focused. with an almost trembling hand, as if you were scared to ruin the perfection, you reached out to cup his cheek, gently stroking his skin. you observed every pore, every wrinkle, stray hair or stubble, and you all found it.. gorgeous. you were convinced fyodor was an angel, sent from above. every touch was reverent.

"is something the matter?"