vierapril day one | sunrise | concessions pt.1(pt.2/pt.3)
the bed is empty when aymeric wakes. not an unusual situation, to be sure - he's not in the habit of regularly sharing his bed, in the first place, but he's also never shared a bed with someone as eager to leave it as ilya. in defiance of all expectations, however, he's there, silhouette cast in shadow against the glare of the open window. still - unreal - as a painting, and aymeric is unsure if he's awake or asleep, curled with his arms wrapped around his knees in the windowsill, sunlight silvering the fine hairs of his forearms, glinting in the emptiness of his right eye. awake, then. real. all that light and warmth stretching out its fingers to brush his hair out of his face and he's still as a shadow in it, edges diffuse in the sun and aymeric's sleep-blurred vision in spite of him, gazing unfocused out at the morning.
