Through the Screen novel Chapter 117

"i'm sleep," abel whines in a childlike manner, pushing his face further against noah's neck and attempting to get closer to him even though it doesn't seem possible when they are already pressed against each other too firmly. the darkness of the sky outside and the time on the clock seems increasingly irrelevant—abel isn't sure how they have managed to just. . .stay in each other's presence for so long without making any kind of conversation, or eating, or using the bathroom, because he is quite sure that neither of them have moved an inch in the past three hours. he isn't even sure if he has working limbs right now—but that's probably the sleepiness talking.

"sleep?"

"sleep,"

"you're cute," noah laughs softly. somehow his fingertips aren't tired of tracing paths across abel 's body, or searching through the wild forest atop abel 's head—he is just as addicted to the feeling of abel as he was three hours, three months and three years ago. he can swear on his life that time hasn't moved, neither has he to be fair, but he can't tell if it's midnight or morning, if it's cold or hot, if it's awkward or boring—noah can just tell that abel is finally here—real, breathing, here.

"debatable,"

"don't test me roberts, i have valid points,"

"it's lester," abel pokes him playfully. "if you get my last name wrong again i'm divorcing you,"

"fine, lester,"

"okay, roberts,"

"listen whatever you are doing right now is very gay," noah raises his eyebrows in mock confusion and abel looks up at him with squinted eyes, his lips stretched into an adoring smile.

"yeah that's because i haven't done anything gay in three years,"