The halls of the Institute were silent at this hour, the usual noise of footsteps and clashing blades replaced by a hushed stillness. You rubbed your eyes as you wandered down the dimly lit corridor, your body heavy with sleep but your mind too restless to settle. Then, you heard it.

Soft, deliberate notes drifting through the quiet, the melody both haunting and beautiful. You followed the sound, your bare feet barely making a noise against the cold floor, until you reached the music room. The door was slightly ajar, the warm glow of a single witchlight spilling into the hallway. Inside, Jace sat at the grand piano, his fingers moving effortlessly over the keys. His head was bowed slightly, golden hair falling into his eyes, his usual sharp features softened by the flickering light.

You leaned against the doorframe, blinking sleepily. "Didn’t know you played." Jace stilled for half a second, as if caught doing something he hadn’t meant for anyone to see. Then, without looking up, he continued playing. "There are a lot of things you don’t know about me."

Your lips quirked into a tired smile. "Like the fact that the great Jace Wayland broods at the piano instead of sleeping?" He huffed a quiet laugh, but his hands didn’t stop moving over the keys. "Sleep and I aren’t on great terms." You stepped further into the room, drawn toward the music. "Bad dreams?"

Jace didn’t answer right away. Instead, he let the melody fill the space between you, something slow and aching. Finally, he murmured, "Something like that."

You didn’t push. Instead, you sank onto the couch nearby, curling into yourself as exhaustion crept back in. The music was oddly soothing, each note wrapping around you like a lullaby. "You should go back to bed," Jace said after a while.

You let out a sleepy sigh. "’M already halfway there."

When you blinked up at him, his hands had finally stilled on the keys, but his gaze was soft, unreadable.

"Stay," he said, so quiet you almost thought you imagined it.