Free A Note in the Margin by Isabelle Rowan Page B

to the sounds of the apartment…. Nothing. He stood up and moved nearer to his bedroom door. When he heard no obvious sounds John carefully opened the door. The stream of moonlight through the open curtains made the room seem bright in comparison to the living room; John could easily see David asleep in his bed. He stood quietly in the doorway watching the rise and fall of the quilt matching the steady wheeze of breathing. John grimaced at the tightening of his chest and the need to make an admission. Fucking hell, I’m in trouble here.

CHAPTER 7

    Consciousness slowly invaded David’s sleep and along with it came the steady thump of a headache. He lay still, taking the time to wake up fully before even attempting to open his eyes. Rather than preparing for the usual regret of waking, David allowed his body to relax in the warmth of the bed. The sheets smelled vaguely of John. Turning his face slightly into the pillow, David rested his nose against the pillowcase and breathed deeply. It was only then that he noticed the sound of light snoring. He must have heard it before but it hadn’t registered. He was used to the sound of snoring bodies nearby; frequently it was only exhaustion that enabled him to sleep among the noise of the men’s shelter. He frowned and instantly regretted the action when the dried cut in his hairline threatened to split.
     
    David opened his eyes; the morning light sent a bolt of pain shooting into his already aching head. He groaned and squinted until his eyes acclimatized to the intrusion of daylight.

    The other side of the bed was empty. Stretching his hand out under the covers, David slid it across the mattress. Seeing the movement of the quilt charting its progress he wondered vaguely which side of the bed John usually slept on… which was his pillow? David sighed. It was ridiculous that he was thinking such thoughts.
     
    A snort suddenly interrupted the snoring before settling back into a steady and louder rhythm. David realized it was behind him. He carefully pulled his hand back and braced it against the mattress to turn over. Every joint and muscle complained at the movement; the pain of rolling over momentarily took his breath away. But now he was looking at John.

    John was asleep in the wingback armchair in the corner of the room, the blanket from the couch draped over one shoulder and down across his knees. One leg was tucked under his body and his head tipped to one side, resting on his palm. David couldn’t help but smile at the sight of John open-mouthed and snoring at full bellow. Completely unguarded in his dreams.

    David had lost track of how long he’d been watching John sleep when he was startled by the shrill buzz of the alarm clock. John woke with a grunt, almost tipping the chair as he jumped up, eyes darting unfocused around the room. It took him a few seconds to realize what had happened and then he walked over to the nightstand. He gave David a sheepish grin and shrugged. “Ah, sorry. I forgot to switch that off last night.”

    A wave of self-consciousness flushed through David as he lay in John’s bed. He glanced away and mumbled a quick “It’s okay.”

    John silently cursed himself for not waking sooner so he could creep back to the couch unnoticed; he moved away from David to look out the window. The morning was gray and the thin light had a harsh edge. He absently raised his arms above his head, a hand on each elbow, and stretched, twisting his head until he felt that satisfying pop of his joints. He ached from the night spent in the chair but played it down with a shrug. “I’m getting too old for that.” He smiled, tilting his head toward the wingback.

    David frowned and looked at John, who now felt the need to explain. “Look. Last night I was worried. You didn’t seem too… um… together, and I kept thinking I should have called a doctor.” His explanation trailed off.

    David thought about this for a moment, then looked at the chair and