it is an ungodly hour of the night — one night of many in the past two weeks , and so late now that when yone rises from their workstation , he can do little more than mumble something from which only the word ' coffee ' is clearly discernible . he does not wait for aphelios' response , but there is doubt that he would have remembered even if he had . standing in the kitchen , the dull ache in his mind is a constant companion at this point , and as he tilts what liquid remains from the pot into their mugs , a sudden disorientation careens through him : there's the sense of being but pressed between the pages of a poorly animated flip book , every motion fragmented and hollow . each blink is a gamble , and when he finally realizes he's been staring blankly at the cup in his hand for the past fifteen seconds , he knows it is long past time to give in and go to bed .
the coffee never makes it back , instead finding itself poured out into the sink . yone trudges back to the studio , resigned to the task of dragging aphelios to bed if he has to ( and he hopes he does not have to , because god , he is tired enough as is ) . legs as heavy as lead halt at the doorway when he realizes that aphelios has beaten him to it . kind of , at least .
he has fallen asleep at the desk , slumped forward with his head tucked between his shoulder and elbow , and the image of the younger man fighting to keep his eyes open before ultimately succumbing to the weight of his own head flashes in yone's mind . drawing closer , lips begin to form his name — aphelios — but the sound catches in his throat as his gaze falls upon the peacefulness that sleep has smoothed into the other's features . he is staring again , but this time , he is conscious of it . in the silence of the room , the colour and texture of aphelios' breathing stands out like paint upon a canvas , and for a second , yone wonders how aphelios would react if he knew of the art he produced even when quiet . another moment passes before he says softly , ❛ ... aphelios , wake up . you shouldn't sleep here . ❜
Aphelios has always worked better at night. It's the most peaceful time, when his phone is quiet and no one's moving around and making noise or asking him for something, but it's more than that — even with the lights of the city obscuring the stars, he feels like the moon's light makes him think clearer, makes him breathe a little easier, makes his thoughts a little brighter. He's used to staying up — much prefers it to the hustle and bustle of the mornings, likes to wake up late and start the day easy, when everyone's already left the house.
It's harder, of course, in the HEARTSTEEL house. It's noisy, and it's harder to keep to his own schedule, but he can generally rely on there being coffee when he gets up, so it's not all bad.
Still, even Aphelios has his limits. He was only going to rest his eyes for a moment. It felt like they were close to a breakthrough (though really, that was probably the sleep deprivation talking, rather than any creative energy that might be left in his mind). Aphelios had crossed his arms on the table and let his head rest on them, promising himself that he'd get back to work when Yone returned with the coffee, but the next time he opens his eyes, it's to Yone's gentle voice. He blinks a couple times, eyes gluey with sleep, then straightens up in his chair and rubs his eyes with his fingertips. Even without making a sound, it's clear what he's communicating — no, no, I'm awake, I swear — as he checks the time on his phone, then glances at Yone's distinctly coffee-less hands.
His head tilts, his eyes bleary with sleep, his blinks slow. Really, Aphelios is trying so hard to appear more alert than he feels. Then, carefully, he signs a question, one that every member of HEARTSEEL knows well. 'Coffee?'