EIGHTH WONDER; memeulous & imallexx

4; marks

You left so many marks on me and I can't cover them up and you just gave me a smug wicked smirk when I complained and I want to punch you and kiss you at the same time

oh man i've had so many urges to write a lot lately but the Words just Won't Come Out, but i forced myself to so how's this juice for ya fellas

p.s. thanks for almost 200 reads, i rlly appreciate people reading this mess 💞xoxo

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Warmth and a fuzziness that only sleep can replicate is what follows George after he wakes up in the mornings. Nights are never spent struggling to curl up tighter into himself for any resemblance of heat when there is none, and he's certainly never missed having the space in his bed less than he does now. Especially with Winter fast approaching and Alex is basically a blessing disguised as a human space heater; there hasn't been a night since they started sharing their beds that George has woken to a biting chill crawling across his skin.

Nothing is different with waking that morning when he stirs, eyelids repeatedly opening and closing as they blink through the sleep-glazed hue of the white walls. Ultimately, his aching eyes win as they close.

George can feel a bare arm loosely resting on his waist, and the fingers of said arm are curling inward into his abdomen. He blindly turns to face the owner of the arm but flinches when he rolls over too quickly and sharply. A hiss escapes George and he brings a palm to his forehead; he knew he shouldn't have had that many drinks last night.

After the thrumming pulse in his head dulls, his shoulders loosen and he rubs at his eyes. Alex is still sleeping in front of him, hair mussed like a rats nest and face the epitome of peace. George smirks dazedly at the thought of that peaceful expression scrunching up when Alex wakes and realises just how bad his head aches.

For now, though, George decides to take advantage of the warmer side of the bed where Alex has taken residence and budges closer, tucking his shoulders under the blanket to close off any escaping heat. It's strange, really, how Alex can feel absolutely freezing during the day, stiff fingers and pink cheeks and all, despite the layers he has on. But as soon as they're both under the covers and dead to the world, it's like Alex is the damn sun.

When there's a deep inhale and a rustling of sheets to be heard, George opens his eyes without realising they were closed in the first place. Alex is barely awake now and weakly rubbing his thumb into his right eye, a wince growing into his face.

George laughs at him quietly beneath the blanket, causing a weak scowl to be thrown his way – only for it to be ruined by a flickering of eyelids that fight to stay open. George breathes a laugh again draws in closer to Alex. He lifts a hand from under the blanket to trace under Alex's eye, moving any stray hair that had inevitably stuck there in the night.

"Y'forgot to close the blinds." Alex croaks and clears his throat soon after. He's keeping his eyes tightly screwed shut and brow furrowed, as if the light coming through the window was personally insulting him. In a way it probably is, judging by how he shuffles closer to bury his face into George's jaw. His arm has made its way around his waist again, and George is more than happy to return the gesture.

"Not my job to close 'em, Al, you can do it too." He sounds better than Alex, but the words are still rough and grate on his throat.

Alex hums in response but it doesn't sound like he actually listened to George. Instead, they're both quiet for a few more minutes. It's silent enough that he thinks the other boy has fallen asleep against him, but another deep inhale and Alex shuffling around the blankets, eventually moving to lean over the side of the bed, disproves that.