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Summary
The boy was lying on top of sweaty sheets roughly thrown on a bare mattress. There was only a metre of space or so around the bedframe, most of which was taken up by shed clothes, but there was a corner carved out for a desk. A tape recorder and paper covered in scrawled writing were stacked on top. Afternoon light filtered through the thin blinds, holes letting through slanted sunshine that lit up his shoulder, his collar bone, lower face and his soft mouth. Armand stood in the dark far corner of the room and watched him sleep, the rise and fall of his chest, his mouth slightly open, body soft and languid. The heat was making sleep difficult - the messed up sheets told a story of tossing and turning, and the boy’s loose brown curls were plastered to his forehead with sweat. But for now, Daniel Molloy was asleep. And defenceless. For a boy with such a fierce will to live, he certainly didn't have much of a sense of self-preservation.
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The year is 1980, and Armand watches Daniel Molloy sleep.