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Summary
Alex sighs as he rolls over, grabbing Henry's pillow and pulling it against his chest.
It's early, the sky still inky blue outside the windows, moonlight falling across the floor.
On the other side of the room, Henry stands in front of one of his easels, mug cupped in his hands and baggy jeans hanging off his hips. His head is tipped to the side as he assesses the work he put in the day before, and Alex can tell by the tense line of his shoulders that he's not happy. He'll spend the whole day circling and poking at it, biting his nails down to the quick as he tries to decide what he needs to change.