[ midnight kisses him again. the kiss misses. it skims somewhere above the tuck of his chin. kaveh breathes out. the breath starts in kaveh and ends somewhere in the recesses of midnight's chest. they are bound by a single, unending loop of it. when did it begin this way? from where must it go? and from when must it end? time is non-euclidean until it ends, in which those experiencing it realise that it can be quantified after all - and then, nothing.

kaveh leans in. he returns the kiss that had been misplaced, returns it to the curve of midnight's lips, deposits it where kisses go: where the warmth begins and ends, where the breath begins and ends. this man is a foolish man. a hopeless man. the work helps, he says, and kaveh doesn't want it to resonate so much, the way a curled hand around his wrist is like a reverberation of a tuning fork. ]

Doctor Daan saw fit to prescribe me melatonin. [ is what kaveh says, ] It turns out that you need to know what your sleep cycle is before you know when to take it. Now, I'm sleepy and awake; it's quite remarkable, how a body can refuse both states and encompass them all the same. There's an art to it. Perhaps I'll paint it into a picture.

[ kaveh's unheld hand reaches. it cards through midnight's hair the way you would a beast's. ] Has Netzach been staying with you more often?