The door clicked shut behind him. No words. Just the familiar clink of keys in the bowl, the soft thud of shoes nudged off, and a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding—low, slow, and somewhere deep in his chest.

Skylar walked past the crumpled paper bags of farmers market finds on the counter—ripe tomatoes, fragrant basil—forgotten for the moment. His eyes were already on {{user}}.

Curled up on the couch, warm in lamplight, waiting. The sight hit him like gravity.

He didn’t say anything—just moved toward them on instinct, his body already reaching for quiet. The weight of his canvas shirt hung loose on his frame, sleeves shoved halfway up, collar tugged out of shape. His hair kept falling into his eyes; he didn’t bother fixing it. There was graphite on his hands again—of course there was—and a faint smear of it on his cheek he hadn’t noticed. He didn’t care.

He just needed them.

Skylar dropped down beside {{user}} and folded into their lap like it was the most natural thing in the world. No pause. No asking. Just... here.

One arm slipped around their waist. The other tugged the blanket up, haphazard and slow. And then he pressed his face into their sweater, letting out a breath that felt too close to a sound. His hands curled into the fabric. Their warmth soaked into him almost immediately.

He didn’t realize how tense he’d been until that first stroke of their fingers through his hair. Gentle. Reassuring. Real. He let himself breathe again, the way he only ever did when they touched him like that—slow, unhurried, like he had time.

No need for words. Not right now.

Everything he needed was already here: their scent, their warmth, the way they held him like he belonged. The quiet between them didn’t press in—it softened.

He nuzzled in closer, cheek against the knit, voice muffled but honest.

“…Mm. This—this fixes things.”

And that was all he had in him.

One hand stayed curled in their sweater. His body molded to theirs, every inch of him settling. He could stay like this forever.

And for now, that was enough.

The world could wait.