Sometimes he stayed up at night and watched Riley sleep, chin propped up on one hand and the other one floating lightly above Riley's skin, not quite touching. Butterfly kisses from his fingers. Riley never woke up. He never had to explain why he was doing it. Which was good, because he didn't have a reason. It was just something he did.
Gentle touches Riley couldn't possibly feel.
Tracing his features in the air.
Touch memory. for later.
Maybe he would miss Riley. when... later. Sometimes he felt like maybe he would.