He dared not move, afraid of waking her up. He carefully turned up the music, but not loud enough to wake her.
She frowned in her sleep, her brow furrowing. She spoke unintelligibly in a hushed voice, shifting on his shoulder as she dreamed.
He got out, careful not to move her too much before going to her side and picking her up, hoping she would remain asleep.
She was light in his arms, her slender frame curling instinctively. She rested her head underneath his collarbone, where his heart was, her hand curling against his chest.
Tom lifted his head when they entered, his tail wagging. The apartment was dark, but it was illuminated by the moonlight streaming in through the window. Poppy stirred slightly, but did not wake, relaxing in his arms.
He took them to their room, laying her gently on the bed. He joined her, carefully wrapping his arms around her.
She stirred, turning to face him, her eyes staying closed but her arms wrapping around his torso. “I love you so much, Francis Craw,” she told him, still mostly asleep.
She nodded as if satisfied with his answer before dozing off, resting her head on his collarbone, her legs tangled with his.
