He's up much too late and his eyes hurt, refusing to focus properly on the textbook in front of him. The papers scattered around him look like another language; gibberish and strange pictures that cease to mean anything anymore. His coffee cup is empty, but he's too tired to make more and he just wants to roll over and die. This class is going to be the death of him.

He's so out of it and stressed beyond belief that he doesn't even hear his roommate's bed creak, or the muffled sound of him padding across the floor in the dark, making his way to Leon's little circle of lamp light. Once he reaches him, Cloud touches his shoulder, turning the brunet to face him properly. He gently takes the pen out of his hand and sets it on desk, removing the other's glasses in the same fashion.

The kiss is slow and quiet, Cloud tasting faintly like toothpaste and the mints he's always sucking on while he does his homework. His hands are shockingly warm against him, heated and slightly flushed from sleep. There's no flaring passion, or uncontained lust; no animalist urges or raw hunger. There's just Cloud, wearing the soft pajama pants Leon got him for Christmas last year, light blue with yellow chocobos.

Simply Cloud, and his store brand mouthwash, and his soft fingers.

"Come to bed, love," he murmurs sleepily against his lips, and Leon finds himself nodding complacently; allowing Cloud to mark his place and close the textbook on his desk, turning off the lamp.

It's quiet and dark.

He reaches out and takes Cloud's hand.