It's useless, he thinks, looking up at the skinny beam of light cutting across the ceiling. No matter how hard they attempt to persuade them to, the curtains in his apartment simply will not close properly. No amount of adjusting can disguise the fact that there is six inches' gap between them: half a foot of bare uncovered window that allows moonlight to shine freely into the room.
It doesn't seem to be bothering her, he thinks somewhat petulantly, turning his head a fraction of a degree to one side and watching the round of her shoulder rise and fall with the steady rhythm of her breathing. He has always found it difficult to fall asleep if there is even a tiny amount of light in the room; she has no such problem, it seems. She lies facing away from him, her hair loose and glinting ashen across the pillow, the curved line from cheek to neck to upper arm silvered by the pale light.
He traces the surface of her skin with his eyes.
She seems to feel his gaze on her- she stirs; rolls over towards him; opens her eyes, steady and direct even through sleep. "What is it?" she murmurs.
"I was thinking," he says.
Satisfied, she moves so that she is facing away from him again, and settles down into the folds of white cloth, giving a slight sigh as her eyes close once more.
He moves one finger down over the side of her jaw. "I was thinking that I love you," he says.
Author's notes: This is the last of the shorts I have written. As such, although I might possibly write more in the future, I am changing this series' status to "Complete". Thank you all for reading. :D