An hour later.
Salvatore felt the small, repetitive shift of Milo's weight against his chest as Milo stirred in his sleep. He looked down, his gaze following the rhythmic rise and fall of Milo's shoulders.
He couldn't believe that the boy had actually fallen completely asleep right on top of him. Despite the strict boundaries he usually maintained, he didn't have the heart to wake him up or push him away.
He let out a slow, quiet sigh, carefully adjusting his position on the sofa to support Milo's waist, making sure his pajama pants didn't slip down any further.
Salvatore was exhausted as well; his own problems had left a heavy ache behind his eyes.
"Milo," Salvatore said slowly, his deep voice dropping into a low rumble. "Time to move. Go down to your room."
Milo didn't even open his eyes. He merely let out a faint, contented hum, his forehead pressing deeper into the crook of Salvatore's neck.
