Dawn light filtered into the room, warm and faint, just enough to draw soft shadows across the stone walls.
Seirion had been awake for a long while, though he had made no attempt to rise.
Erian lay beside him on the narrow bed, his face turned toward him. His beautiful eyes were fixed on him with such absolute attention that Seirion felt as if every breath, every blink, was being etched into Erian's memory.
Seirion mirrored him, though with his fingertips. He slowly traced the line of Erian's cheek, the gentle curve of his nose, and the delicate shape of his upper lip.
It was a silent gesture, almost trembling. Seirion had never allowed himself to touch him like this before, not even when Erian was the one initiating contact.
But that morning, for the first time, his hand sought Erian's face deliberately, allowing himself to feel him… while those once-blind eyes could finally meet his gaze Seirion had always longed for.
Erian could see him.
And Seirion… found that fascinating.
