Fuzai

The sun is slowly rising, and as usual, Harkan hasn’t woken up yet. Not that I’d want him to; he’s been working very hard lately, and he should be able to get some more rest.

I hum lightly, sitting up on the bed. As usual, I am awake before him, having woken up much, much earlier. He looks soft, under the morning light that shines on him. Ethereal, almost.

Inexplicably, I feel the need to ramble. About my love, about my care, about what I think of Harkan.

So I do.

“The light makes you look like a god,” I murmur. “It would be right, I suppose, if you were one. I would think you are a benevolent one, a sweet one, one who would piece together a broken subject kindly — much like you have done to me.”

I let out a short laugh, exactly three seconds long. “I love you,” I say tenderly. “I really love you, my sweet Harkan. You are everything to me. I love the way you talk, the way you get excited about the things you hold most closely to your heart. I love your intelligent and cunning mind, the way you utilize your powers, and many more. I love everything about you.”

I place a hand on his chest, feeling the rhythmic beat of his heart. I know it saddens him that he cannot do the same for me, but I am more than content with having his heartbeat to comfort me.

“You are,” I brush away his hair with my other hand, smiling gently. “Very important to me. I could not have imagined being anywhere else but with you and loving you.”

Throughout my little ramble, Harkan has not woken up. No, he rests peacefully, looking far younger than he does awake. He is sweet, both in everyday life and in his sleep, and I adore it about him.

“Have a good rest, Harkan,” I plant a kiss on his forehead, before standing up. “I’ll make sure you wake up to a wondrous day, as always.”

With those words, I slide off the bed, and head out to start making breakfast.

(Written by imginate)