Every Me Loves Every You

There’s no light from under the door when Balthazar returns, so he slips inside as quietly as possible.

Cass is a perfect lump under the covers, only his hands and the top of his head visible, even when Balthazar flicks on the desk lamp. He can spy just a hint of the sleeve of Cass’ new pyjamas, the ones they picked out of the catalogue, not technically a matching set with Balthazar’s, but touchingly close.

Balthazar smiles fondly.

Then blinks.

As he climbs into bed, he can tell for sure.