He doesn’t question it. Just turns, pulling a wooden box from the closet shelf and bringing it to me. “Here.”
I take it, setting it on the bed. My fingers work automatically, sorting through pencils and paper, the familiar ritual soothing. He watches me quietly.
“Can I watch you?” he asks after a moment. “Or would you rather I do something else?”
I glance up at him, his face lit by the soft bedside glow.
“Stay,” I whisper, patting the bed beside me.
He climbs back in, pulling the blanket over us both, his shoulder pressed against mine. The room feels warmer now, quieter. I sketch the curve of a line, the shadows under his jaw.
The paper blooms with shadows and light, his form taking shape beneath my fingertips. I draw him the way I saw him on the balcony before everything fractured—bare chest catching the moonlight, his throat exposed, his head tilted to the sky. The quiet curve of his mouth caught between peace and pain.
It isn’t just him I’m sketching—it’s how he made me feel.
I shade the line of his collarbone, the dip of muscle beneath his ribs, soft graphite smudging against my skin. Every movement slows the ache inside me until it’s almost bearable.
Truthfully? As I am tucked beneath the blanket while I draw, the world fades. It’s a space I can disappear into. But sharing this quiet with Trey makes my heart thrum in a way I can’t ignore. Trey doesn’t speak. He just watches, his presence warm beside me, his gaze tracing the path of my pencil as if the act itself is sacred. I can feel him studying every stroke, every breath, but it doesn’t make me nervous. If anything, it comforts me.
When I finish, I lean back, my fingers streaked with charcoal. My heart beats faster as I glance up at him. He looks at the drawing like he’s seeing something he doesn’t quite recognize.
“This is how I saw you,” I whisper. “Outside on the balcony, with the sky looking back at you. You were…beautiful.”
Something flickers in his expression—wonder, disbelief.
“You make me look like someone worth saving.”
My chest tightens, my pulse fluttering in my throat.
“You are,” I tell him quietly.
The silence that follows hums between us, heavy but not uncomfortable. He shifts closer, his knee brushing mine under the blanket. The contact sends warmth spiraling through me.
I look down at the drawing again—his face turned toward the stars, raw and unguarded—and realize I’ve captured something rare. Not just him, but the stillness he carries when he forgets to be anyone else. The man behind the mask.
I exhale, my voice barely a whisper.
“It helps,” I admit, setting the pencil aside. “When I draw. It makes the noise stop.”
Trey nods, his eyes steady on me.
“Then keep drawing, baby,” he murmurs, his voice like a promise. “I’ll be right here.”
Trey stays—quiet, unmoving—as I let my hands move again, sketching light into the darkness until my breathing slows, and the night finally feels safe.
Every few seconds, I feel his gaze flicker from the paper to my face, and I know he’s studying more than the drawing.
The peaceful atmosphere a balm on the burning of my shame. He had only been away for minutes, but I had become undone thinking of whoever was coming. My fear not just for me, but for his safety.
I set the pencils down one by one, careful not to smudge the lines still drying on the page. The sketch lies open on the bedside table—Trey beneath the night sky, his soul somehow caught in graphite and shadow. I close the box, sliding it gently beneath the table before turning back to him.
The room feels softer now, quieter. The chaos from earlier is a distant echo. His eyes find mine in the dim light, and for a heartbeat, I forget how to breathe.
“I know I don’t deserve to be seen,” I whisper, voice trembling. “But you see me, Trey. You really see me. I’ll forever cherish that—and everything else you’ve done for me. Thank you.”
He shakes his head, like the words physically wound him. Then he reaches out, his hand sliding to the back of my neck, thumb brushing my jaw.
“Don’t thank me,” he says, his voice low and rough, every word sinking into me like a vow. “I’d give you the world if you’d just let me hold it with you.”
