He’s a bed person. He’ll drag out the hours on that mattress, spending as long as he can burrowed deep in the duvets, face pressed to the pillow, limbs sprawled. He’ll mumble profanities when you try to tell him to get up, sleepy, half hearted curse words absorbed by the pillow. However, if you’re in that bed with him, there is no chance of you leaving. He’ll wrap his arms around your waist, pulling you into his lap, forming a spoon shape out of both your warm bodies. He’ll push his face into your neck and hair, resting his chin half on your shoulder, half on your back. He’ll kiss your spine and vertebrae, planting individual pecks on each ridge of your back. He’ll tangle his legs with yours, so complicated and intertwined it’s hard to believe you’re two people. He’ll drag you back down when you try to get up, pinning you to the mattress. He’ll whimper pathetically if you leave, curled into a ball on his side and holding his arms out for you, frowning and pouting like a small child, until you give in to his almost kitten like features, crawling back into his embrace, hearing his contented sigh in your ear. He’ll hold you so close you won’t ever want to move again.
It’s worse though, waking him when he’s not in bed. He falls asleep anywhere; on the bus, train, in the back of a car, on the sofa, even in the shower. And, it’s your responsibility and duty to take care of him in situations where he is unconscious in all the wrong places. You’ll shake his shoulders, embarrassed blushes creeping up your neck as people watch you trying to put the life back into a sleeping boy. He’ll grumble, swatting at your hands, murmuring sleepy, slurred words. But, when you do manage to wake him in these strange places, it’s easier. He opens his eyes, slightly frowning, looking around like a lost sheep. His pupils are blown wide and his cheeks are flushed. He sits up immediately, stretching his arms and cracking his spine. The lazy, innocent smile that sweeps across his features is enough for you to admit you’d happily let him fall asleep in any place, just so you could wake him up again. But then, just as you think he’ll fall happily back into a conscious state with no fuss, he does stupid, sleep induced things. He’ll bat at your face, groan against your chest if you hug him, whimper if you rub his back. He’ll make it look like your fault, when it’s clearly his for falling asleep. But, when he looks up at you, tired and innocent with that look in his eye that tells you he relies on you, you can’t help but fall in love with him again. You fall in love with the pathetic, childish, embarrassing boy who holds you close at night and tells you you’re beautiful in hushed, croaky tones at 3am. You fall in love with everything he is, including his unconscious.
(not my gif, please don’t delete the text)