His apartment door had been open, as if he’d known he’d need me. He’d left it like that just for me, I was sure of it.
I stood in the doorway of his bedroom, my hand pressed against my heart, breath caught somewhere between breaking and blooming. His voice pulled at something deep in me—something old, instinctive and unbearably tender.
He wasn’t fighting the bond now. Not when he was asleep.And dear Goddess Mother… he sounded lonely.
I stepped inside. Slowly and carefully. Like a wrong move might shatter the fragile quiet around him.
His bed lay in the far corner, beneath a window where moonlight poured over him like silver paint. His hair was spread messily behind him, his jaw relaxed and his lashes soft against his cheeks.
He looked so much younger. Soft and mortal in a way I’d never seen.
Ribbon followed me in, but I lifted a hand. “Not tonight.”
He seemed to understand, hopping to a warm corner where there was a large pet bed and curling up on it next to a collection of things that I wascertaindidn’t belong to him. Savla’s hand twitched again over the blankets, still reaching for someone who wasn’t there.
Forme. My throat tightened as I watched him.
“Okay,” I whispered, voice shaking. “Okay… I’m here.”
I moved to the bed slowly, my heart thrumming hard enough that the bond pulsed with it. Then, gently, I lay down on the edge—not touching him—and keeping a thin strip of space between us.
Even that felt like too much. His breath hitched—barely noticeable.
Then he exhaled, long and easy, as if some deep part of him recognized I was close. The bond warmed, hummed and settled between us, and Savla finally stilled.
His reaching hand lowered, resting just inches from mine and the scant distance between our hands thrummed like live wire.I wanted to take it. More than anything, I wanted to take his hand in mine. My fingers curled reflexively, aching to lace with his.
But he wasn’t awake and even half-conscious, he was still Savla—a male who would push me away out of fear the moment he realized what he’d done.So I just watched him instead.
His chest rose and fell in steady waves, deeper with each breath. The tension he always carried—that rigid stoicism—melted out of him inch by inch now that I was near, leaving something vulnerable and heartbreakingly peaceful behind.
I had never seen him sleep, but I already knew that I wouldn’t mind watching him like this for hours. Then—in a whisper, barely a breath —
“…stay.”
My heart shattered quietly inside my ribs. He didn’t open his eyes and he didn’t move, but the word left his lips in a soft, raw request.
Stay.
And I couldn’t stop myself. I slid my hand closer—millimeters at a time—until my pinky brushed his knuckle.
Just that small point of contact. Just enough to tell him he wasn’t alone.
He didn’t wake. But his fingers curled—just slightly—brushing back.And the bond flared warm, sweet and certain. I exhaled shakily, unable to stop the tears forming in my eyes.
“Savla,” I whispered, “I’m not leaving.”
Then I shifted the slightest bit closer, letting my shoulder rest near his, letting the warmth between us fill the cold spaces the world carved into him.
He slept then.Reallyslept.
Deep, safe and unguarded—like my presence was a balm on the scars of his nightmare. His breathing evened out, slow and content.A peace I realized he maybe hadn’t felt in years, if ever.
I closed my eyes and forced myself to stay still—not touching him more, not taking advantage of the moment—just being there. Just giving him what he’d asked for.
Stay.
His hand brushed mine again in his sleep, a gentle, unconscious seeking. He didn’t know what he was doing, didn’tknow what the bond was doing, but he held onto the little piece of me he could reach, and it was enough.
