the soft sounds of breathing

Boy is lying in my bed, more or less sleeping. I am awake, finishing up work. I was kept late at a meeting, and still left before the part I most needed to be around for. Well, they shouldn't have spent four and half hours doing other stuff first.
It has been a rushed and busy few weeks, and they aren't over yet. We stay up late a lot, we are stressed out a lot, we have trouble doing work how and when we want to.
In the middle there are sweet parts: friends came from the city for the weekend, five of them. It deserves a post in itself, and I hope it gets one. They are good, even if I did end the weekend somewhat shell shocked from sheer volume of people.
Other ups, other downs.
Mostly I'm blogging because my Boy is so sweet, with his little breath sounds, and the fact that he came here to my room instead of to his own, when he went upstairs to work. I am blogging because the room is lit by tiny lanterns, lights from the quad outside, and mostly my computer. I feel like the strong, grown-up one. Sometimes I am forced into this role, sometimes I force him into it, and sometimes we each get it naturally. Tonight ended up a natural night. It feels good and strong and natural to be here, blogging, having more or less finished my work, all clothed from the day while my Boy lies all naked for the night, sleeping in my bed and breathing softly.