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a mistake (every day we stray farther from god's light)

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It was when his boyfriend yawned for the sixth time in the same amount of minutes that Blaster finally paused the movie; he sighed through his nose, trying his best to seem stern, despite the smirk pulling on his lips.

“If you’d rather we go to sleep,” he teases, voice not unkind, “I can turn Netflix off and we can-,”

No,” Darwin mumble-shouts, jerking upright.  His eyes are wide; the television screen is reflected, illuminated and white, inside them.  “No – every time we have movie night, I fall asleep first but no-,” he rubs the drool off his chin with one tightly clenched fist, “Not this time.”

Blaster can’t help a laugh at that – and this whole situation, really, because only Darwin would make staying up longer into a competition – but decides to pester his boyfriend despite both of their apparent exhaustion. “Just give up now, my dude – quit while you’re ahead!”  Darwin tries to fix him with a glare, but he mostly just looks dazed, “All-nighters are my specialty.  Gotta lotta practice, studying for engineering tests.”

Grumbling something that was probably meant to be coherent and witty, Darwin laid his head back down on Blaster’s shoulder, eyes widened a comical amount in protest.  “Not this time…” he echoes, but Darwin’s eyelids are already drooping, he’s already leaning heavily into Blaster’s side (but hey, he’s not complaining).

“Whatever you say, man,” chuckles Blaster, as he slips one arm around the shorter male’s waist; with his other hand he unpaused the movie, “Whatever you say.”

Darwin did nod off, several times, during the remainder of the film; each time he’d begin to slouch forward, head slipping down Blaster’s muscular arm and threatening to plop into his boyfriend’s lap.  Each time he jolted awake at the last moment, blinking wearily at the plasma screen in front of them.  He wasn’t entirely certain what was happening in the movie – there was a generic romance, two attractive white kids kissing and crying and saving the world – but he was fairly certain he was lucid enough to determine it was bad.

Finally, after what felt like several days (possibly due to his on-and-off dozing), the film came to an end, fading to black on a cliché shot of the sunset, dazzling orchestra music playing as the credits rolled. The black screen cast off a dull, watery light, and the newfound darkness was easy on Darwin’s strained eyes.  He felt Blaster shift beside him – of course he was still awake, Darwin thought bitterly, the man never seemed to sleep – and hurriedly pushed himself up from where he had been resting in the crook of his boyfriend’s elbow.

“So,” he stifles a yawn, face scrunching up from the effort of holding it back, “That movie was kinda shit, don’t you think? Barely made any sense,” he licks his chapped lips, runs his hands through his disheveled (somewhat greasy, he realizes with distaste) hair, “Kept jumping from plot point to plot point, in my opinion-,”

He turns to Blaster, fully intending on continuing his prattling, when suddenly Blaster makes a wheezy kind of groan – a snore, Darwin identifies after a few awkward seconds as his exhaustion-addled brain tried to keep up – and shifts again, obviously deep in sleep.

The smile spread almost infectiously across Darwin’s face, a mixture of ecstasy at having accomplished his goal and fondness for his dozing boyfriend filling his chest.  He runs his hands through his hair another two or three times compulsively, before adjusting himself so he’s pressed right against Blaster’s side.  When it’s apparent the other is definitely not waking up any time soon, Darwin lays his head down onto Blaster’s lap, arms curled up underneath him like a pillow.  As soon as he’s in a prone position, the exhaustion hits him, and he can’t stop his eyelids from drooping.  Even as he lets his eyes slip shut, he smirks, and mutters triumphantly, “Told you I’d win this time.”