Rowan had to admit that Wren knew what he was doing when he made it a personal mission to fill his life with as many pillows as possible. He was so comfortable sprawled on top of them there under the passing clouds, he immediately dozed off.
He wasn't sure how long he slept, but it felt like he needed every minute of it. The sound of a single, faint *click* woke him, seeming more like a hallucination than something from the world around him.
When he opened his eyes, he discovered that Wren had covered him with a light blanket and now sat cross-legged at his side, quietly fiddling with something in his lap. The silk of his black hair partially hid his profile as he stared down at his hands.
Rowan realized he held the music box that had originally been a gift to Wren from his mother. He must have found it mixed with the clutter on the kitchen table where Rowan had put it that morning.
