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Like a famous cartoon cat, Logico hated early Monday mornings.
This Monday, however, had started out a little differently. The sheets wrapped around him were warm, and softer than usual. There was an arm draped around his waist, one attached to a body he wasn’t ready to examine. A cursory inspection of his surroundings revealed black drapes over the windows, a long coat hanging by the door, and a stack of books on the nightstand, the topmost of which was decorated in gothic gold writing. Logico had seen that particular spine before. Next to it, he spotted a hairbrush, sporting bristles that were threaded through with long, dark hairs.
Irratino would not be proud of how long it took Logico to admit reality to himself.
He finally chanced a glance at the very man, snoozing to his right. No wonder brushing pulled out so many hairs – his locks were tangled around Logico’s bare chest, and even tickling his cheek!
Debating the merits of slipping away into the lonely morning frost, Logico reached for Irratino’s arm. He was attempting to pry himself out from underneath when groggy eyes met his.
“Tea?” Irratino offered sleepily.
“Coffee,” Logico grumbled back. “The filtered one.”