One of Guest's arms was wrapped around your middle, his chest flush against your back as you both slept. With his breath tickling the back of your neck, and warm sunlight flowing in through the curtains behind you, slowly you began to wake. Interrupted from your dreams about your son, your eyelids fluttering open, blearily staring at the wall ahead of you.

Behind you, he mutters something unintelligible and tugs you closer. Groaning softly and shifting away a bit, you turn to face him, one of his arms still over you and the sun outlining his figure under the blankets. You stare. More than you mean to, probably.

With one finger, you trace the scars on his face. You trace over his features slowly, gently, with a featherlight touch. Continuing this for a while, you tilt your head to the side slowly, leaning against the pillow and admiring his peaceful face as he sleeps. Eventually, Guest shifted, eyelids fluttering open. Sleepily, he blinked and looked at you, not saying anything yet.