Connor tries to think of a reason to why he would be awake at 6:30 in the morning but he cannot think of a single one. There was no alarm, no police car outside or birds close to his window. Considering how late they got to bed last night, he shouldn’t be awake this early. Maybe it was a bad dream. However, he’s forgotten about it already.
Troye’s low snoring beside him must’ve been the reason, Connor decides and turns over to lie on his side, face towards Troye’s. He pulls the covers a little closer to him, nuzzles into it comfortably and watches Troye sleep for a little while. He is more awake than he wants to be, but doesn’t mind so much. Waiting for Troye to wake up is something Connor is used to. He takes a curl out of Troye’s fringe and swirls it around his finger, releases it a second later and repeat his actions a few times. When Troye frowns in his sleep and pulls away, Connor giggles and brings his hand to his chest.
Waking up next to Troye is a blessing, every single time. He cannot think of a better way to start a day.
For a few moments, Connor does nothing but study Troye’s face. He’s grown so much this past year alone. The more define jawline and cheekbones are quite something. Connor remembers the calls and texts he got from Troye after he’d been to the gym, how much he hated it. How much it sucked. But it paid off. Troye is handsome now. Stunning.
He wants them to work out together, perhaps go for a run or a swim or even do push-ups in Connor’s backyard. Then shower together…
They could go for a morning walk, have breakfast at some place not too far away and just, be. There never seem to be enough time for them to do the regular things so Connor tries to make them happen whenever he can.
As the sun is rising, he hopes Troye will wake up from the sunlight slipping through the half-drawn curtains in the bedroom. Connor pokes his arm, his nose, and his cheek. He loves him so much he can physically feel it through his whole body, that rush never seems to go away. By the way Troye is burying himself deeper into the covers, Connor figures he is awake, but doesn’t want to be.
“Troye, baby,” he whispers, scooting closer to the tired, beautiful boy beside him. Their arms touch, and Connor searches for his hand. Kissing Troye fully awake is Connor’s favourite thing to do, making his way closer to his lips, slowly leaving loving pecks on his arms and shoulders, over his neck and jaw. Connor kisses his chin and then his lips, when he hears Troye make some kind of noise of approval. “Morning,” he says against his mouth. Slowly he strokes his fingers against his chin, it probably tickles.
Troye isn’t saying anything at all.
Connor wakes up, with his hand in the air, lips pressed against the empty air in front of him. Sunlight is slipping through and lighting up his bedroom, it seems like it will be a glorious day. He pulls the covers over his head and curls his body together, wondering when these dreams will stop.
