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Description
Occasionally, usually when Matthew would insist on watching the news, Gilbert would feel himself start to nod off. Not intentionally, of course, but as much as he tried to avoid it, he would eventually fall under the embrace of sleep, and his head would gently fall onto Matthew's shoulder.

What he never knew was that Matthew would watch him sleep.

Matthew himself didn't quite know why he derived as much enjoyment as he did from watching the albino sleep. He did know that it was an action he performed with more than simple curiosity, which could have been sated with a simple glance in the other's direction. There was a different emotion, he knew, that drove him to the staring, but it was one that he couldn't place, could not put a name to. He tried to not concern himself with the identity of the mysterious emotion, shoving the thought back under the surface of his consciousness whenever it tried to surface.

He would frequently attempt to describe it to himself in his mind, but every time, the only words he could conjure up would sound as if they had come directly out of one of the trite romantic novels that his older cousin so adored. The uneasiness in his stomach that was so often compared to the fluttering of the wings of butterflies, the heat he could feel creeping up into his cheeks, alongside many others.

He was continually surprised by simply the way that Gilbert looked when he was fast asleep. His waking face was one that Matthew knew well; his features were almost always twisted into either a smirk or a grimace. But no matter what, his eyebrows would almost constantly be furrowed together whether his expression was one of joy or disgust or anything else. But asleep... asleep, he looked positively tranquil, with no sign of the fiery personality he usually displayed. He seemed as though, as the saying goes, he couldn't hurt a fly, though that was something Matthew knew to be untrue based on the the fights the other managed to get into on a regular basis. It must have been this stark, almost astonishing contrast, Matthew reasoned, that made him unable to tear his eyes from the sleeping form laying against him. Yes, he would assure himself, that's surely what it is.

And then, the increasingly frequent occasions where the sound of Gilbert's gentle, even breathing would lull him to sleep as well, Matthew would miss the way that Gilbert would mutter or call out or whisper the Canadian's name against his shoulder or his neck, as he often would. But the times that he would be awake for it only served to make the mysterious emotion intensify. It left his breath coming just a bit faster, his heartbeat just a but harder, and his thoughts just a bit more jumbled.

Description
Occasionally, usually when Matthew would insist on watching the news, Gilbert would feel himself start to nod off. Not intentionally, of course, but as much as he tried to avoid it, he would eventually fall under the embrace of sleep, and his head would gently fall onto Matthew's shoulder.

What he never knew was that Matthew would watch him sleep.

Matthew himself didn't quite know why he derived as much enjoyment as he did from watching the albino sleep. He did know that it was an action he performed with more than simple curiosity, which could have been sated with a simple glance in the other's direction. There was a different emotion, he knew, that drove him to the staring, but it was one that he couldn't place, could not put a name to. He tried to not concern himself with the identity of the mysterious emotion, shoving the thought back under the surface of his consciousness whenever it tried to surface.

He would frequently attempt to describe it to himself in his mind, but every time, the only words he could conjure up would sound as if they had come directly out of one of the trite romantic novels that his older cousin so adored. The uneasiness in his stomach that was so often compared to the fluttering of the wings of butterflies, the heat he could feel creeping up into his cheeks, alongside many others.

He was continually surprised by simply the way that Gilbert looked when he was fast asleep. His waking face was one that Matthew knew well; his features were almost always twisted into either a smirk or a grimace. But no matter what, his eyebrows would almost constantly be furrowed together whether his expression was one of joy or disgust or anything else. But asleep... asleep, he looked positively tranquil, with no sign of the fiery personality he usually displayed. He seemed as though, as the saying goes, he couldn't hurt a fly, though that was something Matthew knew to be untrue based on the the fights the other managed to get into on a regular basis. It must have been this stark, almost astonishing contrast, Matthew reasoned, that made him unable to tear his eyes from the sleeping form laying against him. Yes, he would assure himself, that's surely what it is.

And then, the increasingly frequent occasions where the sound of Gilbert's gentle, even breathing would lull him to sleep as well, Matthew would miss the way that Gilbert would mutter or call out or whisper the Canadian's name against his shoulder or his neck, as he often would. But the times that he would be awake for it only served to make the mysterious emotion intensify. It left his breath coming just a bit faster, his heartbeat just a but harder, and his thoughts just a bit more jumbled.