𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐏 : my muse falls asleep on your muse, making it hard for my muse to leave. –––––– @finaltrooper
the images play across the screen in black and white, the volume reduced to a level that would’ve made it perfect viewing for his dog and no one else. poe is trying his hardest to remain absolutely still, save for that little wriggle to get the remote; a movement executed in its entirety with his breath held. truly, perhaps he was being dramatic, no one could stop him if he were to stand up and leave the apartment and head home.
except for finn – his friend and co-actor who was now sleeping soundly upon his chest. perhaps it was his fault, poe had insisted on a classic film and finn had grumbled before promptly fallen asleep within the first fifteen minutes. because another adam sandler movie? seriously? he had to put his foot down after the fifth time.
his gaze drops to the man sleeping atop of him. finn lets out a little snort, nose scrunching up in his dream. poe’s his fingers drift close, but failed to close the last few millimetres to brush against his cheek. he could leave, but he doesn't want to. though he's played many a role in his career and lived lives others could barely dream of, this moment seems to wrestle all thoughts from his mind.
rubbing his one available hand over his face, he directs his eyes to the ceiling. he’s fucked. since some indeterminable date, he’s developed feelings for the man sleeping atop him. the reasons why come easily to him – finn was beautiful, generous, kind, and absolutely talented. their chemistry read from the first session had blown his mind. he worked well with other actors, but with finn it had been effortless. with all the hints from the get-go––––– yeah, he’s fucked.
he should get up, but instead, he settles deeper into the couch and watches the black and white images play out. though if you were to ask him the next morning, he would remember none it.
