It was just one moment; one moment, made of thousands upon thousands of moments - built up, held tight for a period of time unknown and then released; released in a frenzy of emotion and pain. He held that moment; protected it, coddled it into remaining his for as long as he could bear it, then released it, hearing the secure fall of his lover into the bed.
The night was a terrible thing; long, arduous, and dark and most of all, frightening. He was terrified, nervous, excited and hopeful all at the same time. In his fear and in his hope he saw that moment - the moment that he could hope and pray would come again. He didn't deserve to pray to any god; his belief in that had expired long ago with the precognition that some benevolent and merciless entity had given him years and years ago on the day of his creation. He didn't say birth; birth was a word that was reserved for beings with a will and a future - he said creation because that was exactly what it was.
In his long vigil he watched many things; his lover's soft breath rising and falling, the moon rising high in his window, the light of thousands of stars not enough to appease his fear that the night would engulf him whole.
So with that, that knowledge that in the morning he would rise and his lover; in love, hate and fear would kill him with a guilty heart then go and cry - cry to a non-existent god for mercy, forgiveness and the question of why burning in his mind - did the moment fade, and he went to sleep.