5.45 pm:
He rushes through the door, bringing a breath of cold air in with him. His hair is covered in tiny white flakes of snow, and his nose, cheeks, and hands are pink.
"Bloody hell it's cold." That's him.
"Indeed, Snow." Me.
It's already dark outside, so the curtains are closed, encasing us in a nice bubble. He goes into the bedroom for a second, and returns, without his coat and scarf, and with a blanket. He sits down onto the couch, leaning against my side, draping the blanket over us.
"Warm me up, Baz."
He smells like cinnamon and coffee.
"Okay."
7 pm:
The room is warm and smells of tomato and thyme now. We're sitting at the table, and he's inhaling the dinner I made. The speed he eats is fine, because, it means the time we take to eat lines up, with my small amounts that I tend to eat slowly.
"This is good, Baz."
"I know."
I like to cook. He likes to eat. It works well.
He smiles at me when he's finished. I do the same back.
8.30 pm:
"Mmm." Him.
"What?"
"This is nice."
"Yes."
We're just lying on the couch, watching tv, but it is nice. Everything is nice with him.
The show finishes, and he looks up at me.
"Wanna watch the movie next?"
"Sure, Snow."
He gets up to put it on, and then shuffles back over quickly, wrapping the blanket even tighter when he lies back down. I kiss his hair. It's soft, but not too soft. Soft, but scratchy. A contradiction, just like him.
10 pm:
He's fallen asleep on the couch. His breathing is soft and long, his mouth hanging open on my chest. I stand up and carry him to the bed. He doesn't wake. Good.
"Baz?" He's awake then.
"What is it, Snow?"
"Come to bed?"
"Okay."
I turn the tv off, and lock the door. I step into bed, and he takes me into his arms.
"Love you." Him
"Love you too." I plant a kiss on his lips. He kisses back.
"Baz?"
"What"
"Goodnight."
He tucks his head under my chin, and I put my arms around him. And with that, he's asleep. He's warm. He's here. With me. He's Simon Snow, I love him, and he loves me too.