I am so lazy! It is a sickness, I tell you! Review and enjoy!

He said he didn't want me here, and I must admit, it hurt to hear that. In all the time that I have known him, he has never once told me to leave him alone. It would always be me trying to get rid of him. Always. But despite his protests, I make sure I stay the night. I pretend I am asleep, so he can't kick me out.

He believes that I am snoozing because after a while, he lays beside me and covers us. My eyes are closed, but it is hard to keep them that way as he grazes my cheek with his fingers. It is hard to keep my head still when all I want to do is get closer to his touch, but with determination, I remain unmoving. The second his hand freezes and his breathing becomes slower, I snap my eyes open.

His room doesn't have a light switch. That is the first thing I notice. There is no way to turn off the lights, so I am assuming that it is constantly on. The next thing that pops out is that there is a multitude of mirrors on the walls. They vary in sizes and locations, and a justification I would have used is that he is a narcissist. But after today, I am not so sure. Something is amiss about his bedroom. Something is wrong with Sebastian.

I want to get up to explore more, but I am afraid he will wake so I settle for moving my head slightly. On the nightstand, I see pictures. From freshman to senior year, Sebastian and I, in different settings, occasion, clothing, expressions, are staring back at me. The images only consist of us, and I wish that I didn't see any of them in the first place because that feeling is growing more and more. It is flaring up, and I can't beat it back. My resentment at looking at the framed moments of our past couldn't be put out. It has been ten years, and the bitterness is just as strong as it ever was before. And maybe it would be easier to just forget what has been done, but I can't and a small part of me won't.

I focus back on him. His black eyelashes rest on his white, unblemished cheeks. I raise my hand and with my index finger, I run it along his perfect nose. He doesn't stir, so I lower my finger down to his lips, which are thin but full and luscious too. How many times have I kissed these lips? A dozen, a hundred, a thousand? How many more times will I kiss these lips?

"Ciel…" I retract my hand away from him, afraid that my touching woken him. It didn't. I guess he is dreaming about me, and I frown as the dormant butterflies flutter in my stomach. I am a bit surprised that he is not thinking about Bard. Bard who knew Sebastian more than I did. Who was probably with him during those seven years of absence. Who have- "Ciel." My thought is cut off as he whispers my name again. I peer at his face, and there are tiny, almost non-existent beads of sweat forming on his forehead. With worry, I check to see if he has a fever, and though he is a little warm, it is not to the point that I need to give him medicine. But then I hear a low gasp from him, and my concern increases.

"Sebastian, wake up." I say softly, and I think that he heard me because he moves, but it is only him squirming. "Sebastian." He suddenly pulls me close to him, pressing us together in a hug. I barely able to stop yelp from coming out. "What are you doing!?" He squeezes me, and he repeats my name. A sigh follows. I start to try to gently push him a little, but he doesn't loosen his grip. In fact, I somehow manage to get closer to him, eliminating all the space we had between us.

"Ciel." A whimper now. His facial features morph into ones that make it seem like he is in pain. "Ciel." His breathing picks up.

"I'm here," I try to calm him, but it is not working, and I don't know what else to do. I never had to comfort Sebastian in his sleep. He was a rather quiet, heavy sleeper, but I guess this is another thing that has changed. Then I remember I saw his mother rubbing his ear, so I give it a shot and almost instantaneously, he relaxes. And like how he stroked my face till he fell asleep, I keep up my action until I drift off with him.

Sebastian's POV

This is the second day in the row where he is the first thing I see. It is also the second time that I don't need my pills. Both are a blessing that I will treasure because I doubt that he will stay with me for a third night.

I release him from my grip after I spend a few seconds looking at him. He really is beautiful. Handsome, cute, pretty. Who will be the person that ends up with his love? I sit up. I catch my reflection, and at a hard glance at myself, I know it won't be me.

I stand and walk to my bathroom. I take a quick shower, washing away the nightmare I had, and when I am done, I exit with a towel around my waist. I expect to find Ciel still in bed, but he is up. Which is fine except that he is about to open a drawer. I rush over to him and push it closed before he can see what is inside.

"Don't open that." I look at a mirror, and I watch his mouth, but it is his blush that draws my attention. "What?" I ask, curious at his reaction, but maybe he is embarrassed for getting caught snooping.

Ciel's POV

It is wrong to invade someone's privacy, but since it is me, I really didn't think Sebastian would mind. He does as I hear his commanding voice from behind me, and I spot a hand shutting the draw. I have my apology ready, but it vanishes as I breathe in. Honeysuckle. My favorite scent is radiating off him, and it is making words difficult to form. I turn around, and the sight that greets is making my brain short-circuit all together.

"Na…ked." I get out, and he looks confused. I can't tell him again because he is hovering over me slightly, and that scent mixed with his fit body and the sexy V that is showing as the towel hangs low on his hips is making me dizzy. He is more defined than he was in high school.

He tilts my head up, and I can only assume that he saw me eyeing him. I am sure he would say something along the lines of, "My eye are up here" or "You see something you like?" but he doesn't. We just gaze into each other's eyes, and it is a nice because it distracts my urge to run my hands down his chest and past the white material that covers him.

Can I pass off that I am still drunk? If I could, it would give me the perfect excuse to press my lips against his. Can I suffer from brief insanity? What could I do to have him kiss me? What can I do?

Nothing, apparently. He looks up and steps away from me. He goes to his walk-in closet. He is out of view, but he is possibly changing into clothes. I want to go take a quick peek, but my legs give out, which is for the best. Because there is a more pressuring issue than my attraction to him, and it has to deal with that drawer.