It took several more strokes of the pencil before Dorian found himself even mildly willing to accept the work as potentially passable, his brow furrowed in concentration once more, one hand tilting the paper slightly while the other moved to neatly add another line to the sketch. He sits back at last, the Fae King surrounded by a plethora of paper and pencils strewn across the dining room table- much to Samantha's disdain and yet she had very near given up attempting to actually coax the man into going to bed any earlier then midnight in the least. Dorian had, for very near on two weeks, struggled to find any true sleeping pattern. He had become almost used to spending his nights awake and napping- if not sleeping outright, during the day. Yet for nearly.....sixteen days he had found himself with little reason to be up at night at all. He was loath to admit that he had found himself waiting up at night on several occasion in some hope his companion might once again reappear. Indeed he himself had seen the sun rise on a number of occasions before at last collapsing into his own bed before, finally, not but a night ago he had perhaps finally admitted defeat in this. Sebastian was not coming back. He had attempted to go to bed at a decent hour- and found himself awake and staring at the ceiling of his bedroom all the same, some part of him entirely content to curse the vampire for the fact his body seemed to fail to want to sleep at all and as such he had ended up awake yet again. His pacing about like a creature in a cage had at last seen Samantha crumble to the point she had demanded he do something at night if he insisted on being up and moping- the woman presenting him with the endless rolls of paper and pencils.

As such, Dorian had ended up as he did tonight, seated at the table- attempting to fixate his attention upon something, anything, other than the thoughts he did not desire to consider. Yet how they drifted so very easily, each and every time to the man he missed. It had been centuries since he had felt this feeling so thick and heavy within his chest. He should have expected this, anticipated it even, how often had he reminded himself that at some point Sebastian would surely simply just move on? He had so wrongly believed himself immune to these emotions that so afflicted some of his own lovers and he had so callously waved off. He would never be as they were, he would never get attached and yet he had. It was almost laughable truly. He had become attached to a man so like himself in the very fact that they always left- yet he had someone found himself hoping that he might, somehow, persuade his companion not to leave. At least, not to leave him. Dorian is not sure, truly, if he is amazed at his own foolishness or baffled by his own audacity in this belief. Either way it hardly mattered. His companion had done what they surely should have long before this, what Dorian had continued to tell himself would happen and yet somehow it hurt. In a way Dorian had never truly felt before- not ever. Sebastian, after all, had been the closest Dorian had ever come- in all his years of life, to feeling something more than a simple fondness for another being.

The sudden soft sound of knocking at the door momentarily sees the man pull himself away from his despondent thoughts and the drawing he had worked so diligently upon. The sketches were, to him, no more than wastes of time- just as they had been within all the years of his confinement and yet Samantha in the least seemed to delight in them. Even going so far as to claim he had actual skill, saving several of his landscape works, praising the detail and beauty of them and yet truly Dorian is assured they are not nearly so grand as she seems to think them. Indeed it is his roommate he expects now. She had gone as she often did to the place called Work and yet perhaps she had forgotten something- like her key. Samantha inclined to run off without it. As such the man hardly makes any move to tidy himself, bare feet padding across the floor, his jeans and shirt as ruffled as his hair from an attempt at sleeping not but an hour ago- a rather large charcoal stains across his left cheek that he remained wholly oblivious too. This, by far, the scruffiest Dorian had ever appeared. It takes several minutes for him to actually unlock the door, Samantha seeming to fear attack at any given moment, before the slender Fae manages at last to open it- the words upon his lips dying rather rapidly at the realisation this was not his roommate.

For several moments in the least he merely feels the silver of his gaze widen in surprise- a myriad of thought flickering rapidly within his mind and yet he struggles to seize upon a single one. The man seemingly unable to decide if he desires to hug his companion or hit him. Instead he finds himself almost mute for a painfully long moment before age old decorum at last seems to seize hold of him once more- Dorian steeping suddenly to the side.

"Did you want to come in? My roommate goes to work at night, she's not here."

He waits for the other man to make his way in, shutting the door softly behind him before at last turning to face Sebastian once more, one hand lifted to run fingers through his own dark hair in an almost nervous gesture so rarely seen on the often bold King. There is a veritable plethora of things he is decidedly sure he should like to say and yet he is not at all sure how to say them. Emotions are not perhaps his most well explored area- especially not when it came to Sebastian. Why after sixteen days had he appeared now? Surely he had not shown up now only to tell him he was leaving? If that was the case Dorian was assured he would rather the man have stayed away and yet oh how much he had missed him. Dorian forced to exercise far more restraint then he is assured he should to prevent himself kissing throwing his arms around him and kissing him as he so desperately desires. The silver of his gaze meeting Sebastian's own- noting for perhaps the first time he seemed almost- tired.

"Sixteen days, Bastien? I thought perhaps you, well, I considered that you might have...."

He is sure he hardly needs to say it, Dorian unable to force the word- gaze looking briefly away to utter that final admittance he had assured himself he would not and yet found himself doing all the same. Ah, but he was always ridiculous near this man.

"I missed you."

His gaze returns to his companion, searching the man's features for just how such a thing might be received.

Dorian Aragona