Zeven was awake before Chris. The night before was a blur to him, but the person in his arms was very real. They were still on the floor, but Zeven had pulled her in close. Her upper body was curled tightly against his chest and his arms and legs were deeply intertwined with hers. He looked closely at her. The sun stretched through the window, caressing her like a lover. Her light blonde hair shined in the light.
They were so close that Zeven did not need his glasses to make out her facial features. He could have looked at her all day. From the tip of her nose to the circles under her eyes she was beautiful to him, and deep within him he felt the desire to posses her. To ingrain himself so tightly in her life that without him, she could not exist.
Chris. She could be his Chris. Not in place of her mother, but as herself. In this light, she didn't look like Aureile at all. The shape of her brow was stronger, the pout of her lips more severe, and even with her eyes closed Zeven knew that behind her eyelids were irises of the most serene grey. He longed to reach out and brush his fingers over her face, but uncurling himself from her was unthinkable.
He pulled her in closer. She shifted in her sleep for a moment as Zeven held his breath. It was too soon to lose her warmth. But she settled back down, her good hand twisted around the fabric of his shirt.
Zeven thought back to the first time he saw her. She was indistinguishable from her mother, but now he could see all the small differences that made her unique.
She stirred in his arms once more, beginning to wake. He closed his eyes pretending to be asleep. When she lifted out of his touch, he desperately wanted to draw her back down.
Chris sat up, body tired and sore from sleeping on the floor. But it was nowhere near the worst sleep she had ever gotten. Zeven's long limbs were curled tightly around her anywhere they could reach her.
"What am I going to do?" she mumbled to herself. "I'm still mad at you, but it's not just at you. I shouldn't have let my emotions go like that," she stood up, "I owe you an apology, I was wrong in this case too. You were probably just trying to help."
She made it halfway to the door, before seeing his glasses lying on the floor. Picking them up, she moved them to the dresser so that Zeven would not crush them. The soft tap of metal to wood was lost under Zeven's words.
"So you can only apologize when you think no one is listening?" He also got up from the floor, his body creaking and popping as he moved.
"And you can only apologize when you are half asleep?"
With a final stretch, he rolled his shoulders back and dawned a coy smile.
"Chris, if it is any consolation, I am confident that I will spend the rest of my life apologizing to you."