Damien didn't remember when sleep claimed him. One minute, he was sitting at the edge of his bed, watching the shadows outside the window lengthen; the next, he was being jostled awake by small but persistent hands.
"Damien," Lyone's voice came quietly, just beside his ear. "It's almost dawn."
"Ughh..." A groggy grunt escaped Damien's lips before his eyes fully opened. The faint blue hue of early morning filtered through the curtains, washing the room in a colorless calm.
He blinked, brain foggy, then sighed heavily.
He didn't know whether to thank Lyone for waking him or curse the boy for disturbing what little rest he'd managed. He had slept later than planned. But not nearly long enough.
He yawned and rubbed the back of his neck, his muscles stiff from sleeping in a slouched position. "Next time," he muttered, "wake me thirty minutes later and just tell me I have five minutes left."
Lyone chuckled. "You'd still sleep through that."
