Afternoon light drifted through the room, warm and lazy, settling over Blade where he rested with his head in your lap. His fingers curled around the small plush you’d handed him earlier, grip softening as sleep finally pulled him under.

For a long while, the only sound was his slow, steady breathing. The harsh lines in his face eased, shadows smoothing into something unguarded—something almost fragile.

The plush slipped slightly in his hand. He tightened his hold, nuzzling into it—and into you—with a faint, sleepy sigh.

Then, barely above a whisper, your name slipped from his lips.

A pause. A breath. A truth he’d never speak awake.

“…I wish I could tell you.” He murmured, voice rough with dreams. “I… care for you more than I should.”

His head grew heavier against you as he drifted deeper, unaware of the confession he’d left behind.