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I loved his sleeping face.
It made me strangely happy to see him asleep beside me, him, who had once been just another classmate. At school, he always seemed so different. But here, with his guard down in a way he only ever showed me, his sleeping face felt special. Seeing it made me want to fall asleep beside him too, and yet I couldn’t bring myself to close my eyes. It felt like such a waste. If I fell asleep, I wouldn’t be able to look at him anymore, so I always ended up staying awake too late.
When he dozed off in the evening, he was almost unbearably cute. I loved watching the soft light slipping through the curtains fall across his face. In that room filled with the glow of the setting sun, he became a secret that belonged only to me. Not to our classmates, not to his family. That small, quiet moment that only I knew felt like something precious.
Even the things he murmured in his sleep were cute. Sometimes he sounded as if he were running from something frightening; other times, he whispered in a voice that made him seem happy. But what I loved most was when he called my name. Sometimes he sounded happy, sometimes sweet, sometimes almost lonely. It changed every time, but nothing made me happier than hearing him say my name. Once in a while, he even called me by my first name, though he hardly ever did when he was awake.
Was he dreaming? The way his expression shifted from one moment to the next was so dear to me. I liked guessing what kind of dream he was having from the look on his face. I never asked him about it after he woke up. I didn’t need an answer. It was enough just to imagine the dreams he saw, the happy ones, and the sad ones too.
I loved the way he looked when he woke up as well. The slow blinking, the faint crease between his brows for no real reason, the way he seemed to have left half of himself behind in a dream…it was all adorable. I loved that face, not because it was beautiful, but because it was ordinary. Just his face right after waking up, without anything polished or prepared. To me, that alone was a treasure. I loved watching him laugh in that soft, ticklish way. There was something lovely about his face after sleep.
Still in his pajamas, he looked so much younger than he did at school, and I wished I could keep looking at him forever. But maybe it was only because moments like that didn’t last forever that they felt so precious. The sleepy voice he used to call my name was something I wouldn’t trade for anything. He wasn’t doing anything special. He was just there, and that was enough to make him dear to me. I didn’t want the version of him anyone could see in his school uniform. I loved the pajama-clad version of him that only I got to know. Even the little trace of drool he sometimes left after a nap was endearing.
His unguarded face, the one only I knew, was so cute that it felt almost painfully precious. I loved that side of him, the side that could stay mine alone. When he slowly came back from his dream and made a face as if he were embarrassed, that was cute too. He would smile shyly, and I would find myself smiling back. His bashful smile was beautiful, and when the sunset touched his cheek, it made me happy just to see it.
Eventually, my own eyelids would grow heavy, and sometimes we would fall asleep together. Even though all we were doing was sleeping in the same bed, it still made me feel a little shy. Yesterday, the day before that, no matter how many times it happened, I never really got used to it. He was special again today. So precious I didn’t know what to do with it. He was asleep in my arms, mine alone, and I felt happier than I could put into words. Part of me thought it was a shame to fall asleep, because then I wouldn’t be able to see today’s version of him anymore. Still, I liked sleeping for a while against his warmth.
“Good night,” I whispered softly.
For a moment, I thought he smiled. Maybe I had only imagined it. But it made me happy all the same, and I gently pressed my lips to his closed eyelid.
Good night. See you tomorrow.