William fell asleep with the book in his chest. All the things he'd said, the harshness of his features, they marred not his pale face. Even the clothes he wore weren't pristine anymore. They were crumpled up, mussed, crinkled here and there in a way that made them actually look worn and used, rather then something just pulled from the shop and placed upon a model for the runway. No, he just looked like a lonely young man, seeking the little comfort he could from someone else's space.

An area that exuded warmth, and comfort, nothing like his side of the room.