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Alex slipped quietly into the front room. James was still where Greg had left him some hours ago, curled up on the chair in the corner, wrapped in his special blanket. His collar could be seen poking out from under the soft fabric; his face was nestled in the crook of his bare arm. His breathing was slow, rhythmic. It made a pleasant change from earlier, and Alex was careful not to wake him.
James had had another one of his tantrums. Alex hadn’t heard how it had started; when he’d walked in, James had been shouting and yelling, then Greg had hauled him over to the punishment bench, where a short, sharp beating had left him wailing and crying. Greg had gathered him into his arms, his face twisted with angry sobs and as red as his paddled backside, then carried him into the front room and set him gently down on the armchair, draping his blanket round his shoulders. James had instantly curled himself into a tight ball, tucking his long legs under him, hiding his face, shutting everybody and everything out. Greg had walked away, his expression composed but rueful, as James sniffled defiantly. Alex had stood and watched as the little hiccups which shook his thin frame got less and less frequent, his moaning breaths subsided into sighs, and exhausted sleep gradually claimed him, a boy who had thoroughly tuckered himself out.
Alex padded slowly over to the chair, reached out, and gingerly stroked James’ tousled mop of hair. James stirred at the gentle touch, but he didn’t wake; he shifted slightly, lifted his head, and now Alex could see his face. He regarded it thoughtfully. Even when he was sleeping, he looked tired. But all the rage and frustration was gone from his features, his muscles slack, his lips slightly parted. The high colour had drained from his cheeks, leaving his skin smooth and pale; his light eyelashes flickered briefly as he dreamed.
He looked almost cherubic. Alex marvelled that temper could make him so ugly and sleep make him so fair. James wasn’t the type to weather storms; he became the storm, and then the calm, and then, usually, the sunshine. And his master loved him for it.
Alex was almost jealous. But he wouldn’t let that show. He tucked the blanket more securely round James’ sleeping form, his touch lingering for a moment on his shoulder, and then left the room, and returned to his duties.