The moonlight mixed with the occasional yellow glow of a street lamp. The road was rough, but she held his head steady in her hands as they drove on. His legs curled across the seat on the far side of the car, his head cradled in her lap. The moonlight reflected off of his bleach blonde hair, the street lights turning his face bright. She could just make out the curve of his lips, and she traced them with hers. The corners of his mouth turned up slightly, and he squeezed her hand. Leaning down to his ear, her hair brushing his cheek, she whispered “I love you, baby.” He grunted in approval. She smiled. She knew he loved her. What else would cause him to be so at ease in her arms? He drifted back into his dreams, and she studied his face. All the crevices and cracks, all the lines that formed when he was thinking, they had vanished. He was peaceful. Relaxed. Younger. The boy that had been forced into a man so early shrunk back into the sixteen year old he was. Her fingers traced patterns along his cheek, tickling the stubble that formed there. She looked out the window, saw the glowing lights of the city as they zipped past. But she couldn’t help herself. She turned back to the boy. He was beautiful. Perfect. And she didn’t deserve him, though he’d argue that fact. He was more than she deserved. Out of her league. The thought made her laugh, shaking the boy a little. She shushed him back to sleep and continued her patterns on his cheek.