The dark sky was blooming over the mansion, draping it with silence. Soft moonbeams drifted across the window of Jonathan's tiny chamber, sculpting silvery forms on the floor.
Jonathan was asleep in a fetal position on his narrow bed. His slow and steady breaths were in sync with his calm demeanor; a slight mess of hair expressed his sleeping serenity.
The door gave a small creak.
William walked half-bent into the room with softened eyes upon the sight of a sleeping figure. There was something precious about Jonathan and his sleep, as if an innocent child who has yet to suffer from the pain of existence. William ambled over, stooped, and kissed his forehead with all gentleness.
This startled Jonathan; he stirred a little and opened his sleepy eyes in a confused stare, slowly turning to blushing cheeks at the sight of William standing there.
"M-My Lord," he said, swiftly sitting on end; his voice a mixture of surprise and shyness. "Is something wrong? Do you need anything?"
