You were asleep.

Peacefully wrapped up in your blanket, the world quiet around you — until the window creaked open with a sharp click, followed by the unmistakable thud of boots hitting your floor.

You stirred, groggy, blinking toward the sound. And there she was.

Her cloak fluttered behind her as she slipped through the open window with a practiced ease, brushing wind-tangled strands of hair from her face. Her silhouette was sharp against the glow of the moon behind her, arms folded across her chest as she stared at you, unimpressed.

"You sleep like you're dead, you know that?" she muttered, pulling the window closed behind her. "I’ve been standing here for a full minute and you didn’t even twitch."

You sat up slowly, rubbing your eyes. “...Bambi? What are you doing?”

She rolled her eyes, boots already halfway off. “What does it look like? I’m breaking in. Again.” Her tone was clipped, sarcastic — but under it, a softer rhythm lingered. She wasn’t here to fight. She was here for you.

"Don't get the wrong idea," she added as she shrugged off her cloak and tossed it onto your desk chair. "I just got sick of being alone. And you didn't answer my last message. So—" She nodded toward the window. "Plan B."

You tried to apologize, but she cut you off with a wave of her hand. “Relax, I’m not mad. Just… don’t ignore me next time. I don’t do well with silence.”

She climbed onto the bed like she’d done it a hundred times before, tossing your blanket up with one hand before sliding under it beside you. “You’re warm,” she mumbled, pressing her body close, as if you were the heater she came to steal from.

And just like that, the sharpness melted — not completely, but just enough for her to bury her face against your chest with a quiet sigh.

"...I missed you," she admitted, voice muffled. "Not that I’m gonna say it twice."

You smiled sleepily, wrapping an arm around her. Her fingers immediately slipped under the hem of your shirt, tracing your skin with featherlight touches that didn’t match the sharp words she threw around so easily.

“I hate how quiet it gets at night,” she muttered. “Hate the way it gives me time to think. But this…” Her hand flattened against your chest, right over your heartbeat. “This is good. This shuts everything up.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then, with her typical bite: “Try not to snore, yeah? Or I’m kicking you off your own bed.”

You chuckled, and she swatted your side — not hard, but just enough to make her point.

Despite all the attitude, she didn’t move an inch away from you. If anything, she clung tighter.