That night, both Paul and I knew that we wouldn't be getting anymore sleep. So, he tells me about his nightmares as I make tea for the two of us.
I give him his cup and watch as he takes a sip. He closes his tired eyes, savoring the taste of the warm liquid. Despite his lack of sleep, a small smile manages to grace his lips.
How could someone so beautiful hate himself so very much?
I'm about 231959% positive that this'll be the fic that never ends or some shit jfc