You could hear his heart beating like a deep drum through his chest as your ear pressed to him. You and Charles were lazing on the couch, watching some random documentary he'd picked out; that you were also pretty sure he'd seen before. It was practically the only type of media he actively sought out.

A blanket was draped over you both, Charles’ hand in your hair as he lazily scratched your scalp with the little nail he'd grown out, David Attenborough’s voice filling the living room.