Aventurine wakes up to your breath on his cheek. You're still asleep. His fingers touch your cheek— just barely— before pulling away. You're too perfect; he doesn't want to taint you with his cursed fingertips. Instead, he opts to simply gaze at you, the way your chest rises and falls and the way your eyelids flutter gently as if waking, yet still asleep.

Domestic moments like this linger in his mind. His head tells him that this won't last, but his heart tells him to savor it anyways.