He is surprisingly calm when asleep.

Breathing deeply,

In out in out in out.

His heart beats with a steady rhythm, matching the even breathing. He leans over him, and imagines something he cannot remember, that was so strangely similar to what he's about to do that it makes him shiver, and his stomach twist with a moment of self loathing. But this isn't the same, Gaara isn't helpless and Lee isn't hurting him. He's only curious.

He's shaking and hovers just above his face; it is relaxed and so different he is almost unrecognizable. He is calm, controlled to the point of downright apathetic almost always. Now he is softer and more innocent looking, and somehow the man he sleeps beside does not seem to fit his face.

His mouth is slightly open for breathing, and the movement of air tickles against his fingertips. With a hand on either side of his face, he runs his thumbs across his cheeks, and down to feel his jaw at the place just below his small ears.

His hands continue moving downward, stopping just above his collarbones. Movement pauses in his throat as his chest rises and oxygen is pulled into his body. His short, slender neck is resting on his hands, and he's finally oh so vulnerable. He could take his breath, his life, right now. He runs his thumb across the skin on his throat, pale and white in the darkness. It seems thin, breakable. The veins just under the surface would break if he pressed too hard. Bumps underneath his finger, the outline of his trachea. Press just a little harder, urges something in his mind, catch his breath. He is radiant. He lives. He could stop this, right now, and preserve this perfect, sleeping moment. Tighten his fingers a little, just a little and stop the easy constant flow little by little. He'd never wake up.

He lowers his face and listens to his breath catch and…

Stop.

There is nothing, in that second. Not even his heartbeat.

Breathe out

He leaves all thoughts of it behind as he exhales, and he lets his hands slide behind his back, encircling him protectively. His head is resting on his chest, looking up as if to beg forgiveness.

Hearts beat

The hardest touch to his lily-white throat is as a butterfly's kiss.