Toby awoke and opened his eyes sleepily. He looked around the familiar room which was not his, but which he spent more nights in than his own. The bed was almost identical to his at home, and yet, while he had the most peaceful night's sleep here, he struggled to overcome his restlessness in his own house. The smell was different here; it smelled like sleep and worn perfume mixed with his own musk, and he loved it; at home his room smelled masculine and cold, like a cheap aftershave set you would get from a distant relative at Christmas.
Toby lay awake for hours when he was at home, just wishing he was here. Then again, it wasn't the room which helped him to sleep; it wasn't the room which made him feel warm and cosy; it wasn't the room which he loved. It was the owner.
He looked straight ahead of himself to see the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his entire life. Justine lay in the bed next to him, breathing deeply, her lips slightly parted. Toby struggled to hold back and resist from kissing those irresistible lips, and so sustained his temptation by brushing the stray strands of hair away from her face. One of Justine's hands lay beside her face, while the other lay further down, under the covers next to one of Toby's. He held it, as she had done last night when they had fallen asleep; he had made sure she was asleep before allowing himself to drift off. Toby always made sure she was happy; made sure she wasn't scared; made sure she was protected.
Her nails were painted lilac. He didn't have to look at her hands to know that. He could remember from last night when he had kissed her fingers; Justine was prone to getting paper cuts. The polish was part of a set she had got for her birthday off one of her sisters. Breanne, not Jenna. The lilac bottle lay on the edge of the coffee table downstairs. Toby often let Justine paint his nails when they were watching TV; he twitched his toes at the memory. That bottle's brothers (a baby pink and a sky blue) were somewhere in his house. Days were often spent there, writing, filming, working, but at night they came here.
The hand that Toby was holding twitched and he realised that his thumb was stroking it gently, affectionately. He stopped briefly; worried that he was going to wake Justine. Toby watched her carefully, soaking up every one of her gorgeous features while she was so content. Justine mumbled something incoherent and Toby smiled to himself. After months of watching her on a morning he knew those random mumbles meant she would wake up at any minute. Her eyes flickered and she opened them wearily and stretched lazily.
"Hello" Justine said quietly, smiling sweetly.
"Hey" Toby replied, moving his hand from its position on her hand to rest around her waist. Justine snuggled into Toby, her head resting in the crook of his neck. She began tracing circular patterns on his bare chest which caused him to get goose bumps under her touch. He did the same, only slipping his hand underneath the hem of her shirt and drawing the pattern on her back.
This was their routine. It varied slightly, day to day, sometimes leading to something more. It was the part of their life that only they could see; the part which was not broadcasted onto the internet. This was the time in their lives which they would have forever, no matter what. It was a moment which didn't need to be discussed, or planned, or questioned. It was just there, there to remind them that no matter how crazy life got, they still had each other to slow it down.