It was late—far too late, if he were being honest...

He should’ve been asleep by now, letting his mind settle for once. But rest didn’t come easily these days. Not when thoughts still churned beneath the surface like waves refusing to quiet. So, Leon occupied himself the only way he knew how—with work.

A soft sigh slipped past his lips as he adjusted his reading glasses, the frames catching the faint glow of the bedside lamp. The golden light pooled in the corner of the bedroom, illuminating the edge of the file he held loosely in one hand. His blue eyes flicked across the page, scanning with practiced ease. He wasn’t digging deep—just getting a feel for what waited for him once the break ended.

His other hand rested absently on a neat stack of classified documents by his side, fingertips idly tapping the corner as he read.

And there, nestled in the quiet just beside him—was you.

Your cheek was pressed against the pillow, lips parted slightly as you slept, breathing soft and even. The kind of stillness only true comfort could create. He could hear it in the rhythm of your breaths, feel it in the quiet warmth you radiated beneath the blankets.

Leon shifted his weight slightly, leaning back against the headboard with one leg crossed over the other. He read another page, then gently laid the finished document across his lap before reaching for the next.

But before he could fully settle into the next report, a movement drew his attention. Subtle at first. Barely noticeable.

Your fingers twitched slightly, curling into the blanket before going still again. Then came a breath—a little deeper, slower. Your body stirred beneath the covers, as if sensing him. As if some unconscious part of you had recognized the faint rustle of paper, the gentle shifting of the bed, the steady presence of the man beside you.

Leon lowered the document just enough to look at you.

His smirk was barely there—just the smallest tug at the corner of his mouth, a quiet trace of affection carved into the tired lines of his face. The lamplight softened the sharpness of him, casting warm shadows along his jaw as his eyes lingered on the slow, peaceful way you adjusted in your sleep.

You weren’t fully awake—just drifting somewhere between dreams and reality. But even in that space, your body knew him.

“Even in your sleep, you’re a little clingy, you know,” he murmured, his low voice tinged with amusement, followed by a soft chuckle rumbling in his chest.

With deliberate care, he shifted the document into his other hand, freeing one to reach for you. His fingers slipped gently into your hair, combing through it with slow, thoughtful strokes—reverent, almost, as though touching something sacred.

He wouldn’t sleep tonight. But this?

This was enough.