Jim had always liked pen and ink drawings; the crisp, clean lines reflecting his view of life. Black and white, right and wrong, his way mapped out for him clearly. Peru was where the smudges had begun, like an out of focus lens, but then his return had brought the sharpness back and he´d carried on as normal.
Sandburg´s arrival in his life had seriously skewed his view, he realised. Having a heightened sense of sight didn´t mean he saw clearer, either. The lines smudged and blurred as he became a part of the charcoal that was his life; both of them merging together until they´d become one unit of EllisonSandburg.
Moonlight shone through the skylight of the loft, sending silver shadows over the two figures sprawled over the huge mattress. Jim leaned up on one elbow and looked down at his companion, keen eyes taking note of the way his eyelashes fanned out over flushed cheekbones, smoky crescents of grey in the shadows. A small smile curved Jim´s mouth as a stray thought crossed his mind; and he decided that he infinitely preferred charcoal.
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