It was around five-thirty in the afternoon when I woke up in August's arms. He was still sleeping soundly, literally, because of his adorable gentle snores. He must really be tired to sleep that long and still be asleep like he's only starting to sleep.
I watched him for a while, leisurely grazing my finger on the tip of his nose, to his thick brows, and lips. My heart clenched at the bandage on the side and realized we haven't changed the dressing yet.
I think his family was kind enough not to demand him of where he got it. Or what exactly happened. My Mom would be hysterical in asking me non-stop questions until I told her the truth. As in the truth. Not a lie by playing safe.
Just that thought made me wonder how they are doing now. Dad would be worried, Mom as well, but she would
