The Mark

At last Emil touched Daan's shoulder. "Come to bed," he said, voice drowsy with sleep. "There are more problems enough for tomorrow, and work is better done rested."

He blew out the lamp, leaving them in moonlit darkness, and climbed into the narrow bed.

Daan stood watching his silhouette for a long moment, bathed in the pale light of dreams beyond his reach, before letting out a soft sigh.

When Daan settled in beside Emil and felt the warmth of his body, he wondered if this too was a problem to be solved.

If he had enough time, enough nights like this, might he not map the contours of Emil's brilliance through sheer proximity?