"A Room Full of Obsessions"
A plain, empty room, filled with a silence that matches its deep blue walls, that echoes the dim daylight filtering through.
At its center rests a wide, crimson-red couch.
He sits with his back leaning against it, head tilted back, eyes fixed on the ceiling. His legs are propped up on the small table before him.
And I sit beside him, facing the opposite way—my knees drawn up to my chest, tucking my cold feet into the corner where we sit. I wrap my arms around his upper arm and shoulder, pulling him close. My head tilts to rest where his neck meets his head.
I try to drift off, but the pressure of my glasses against my face irritates me. The small discomfort disrupts my attempt to relax, so I remove them, rubbing my eyes lightly—only to find sleep has once again slipped away.
So I simply turn my face toward him—only to find his gaze on me instead of the ceiling he had been staring at moments ago.
I do nothing but adjust my embrace around his arm, resting my cheek against it, meeting his eyes.
Just him, me, and the silence—wrapped in the beauty of this quiet moment, together.