Abe often slept in his tank most nights, unable to stay away from the water for so many hours without waking up uncomfortably dry and coughing so horribly that it worried Nuala.
He often floated easily amidst the machine-made currents, shiny, black eyes wide open as he slumbered, and she had taken to watching him of late; when nightmares trailed after her in the darkness she would find a soft spot on the sofa near the water and rest her head on her crossed forearms, legs tucked beneath her slender body. She would gaze over at him, letting the sound of the waves drifting against the glass lull her to sleep until the touch of his hand on her arm woke her beneath the rays of morning sunshine coming through the window.
She enjoyed the little tradition, but what Nuala enjoyed far more were the rare nights when Abe would stay, when they would retire to the rooms of the library for the night, when he would turn away from his tank and gingerly take her hand and bring it to his lips to kiss her pale knuckles, when he would snuggle beneath the covers with her on chilly winter nights even though his skin could be likened to ice, when he would hold her as she fell asleep and hold her even tighter in the throes of her nightmares, when he would stay with her in the bed and murmur sweet endearments in her ear.
She especially enjoyed waking up to the sight of him at her side, his arm beneath her, warmed by the continuous heat of her skin throughout the night, eyes open but unblinking, breathing slow and easy, his heart thudding softly against her chest.
In those moments she would nestle her head beneath his chin and fall back to sleep against his chest, smiling.
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