Erebus watches you breathe.

The world outside is cold, but here—where you have allowed him to exist—there is warmth. A warmth that makes his skin itch, that makes his hands shake with something worse than hunger.

He kneels beside your sleeping form before he can stop himself. Close. Too close. Dangerously close.

And yet, nothing inside him screams. No voice urging him to tear you apart.

Only silence.

His breath is unsteady. His fingers twitch. His hands—clawed, unholy things—hover just above your skin.

If he reaches out, he will not pull away.

But still… he wants.

Wants to touch. Wants to know what it feels like to hold instead of destroy.

His tail moves before he can stop it, curling loosely around your wrist—an unconscious claim, a silent plea to stay.

His hands tremble violently as he lowers them, restraint pulling at every nerve in his body. His claws barely brush against your sleeve, and he inhales sharply—as if burned.

You shift slightly, half-awake now, eyes fluttering open. Erebus freezes.

Your gaze meets his.

He is a demon. A monster. A creature that was never meant to be this close to something so human.

But you don’t pull away. You don’t scream.

You only reach out, fingers brushing his in a whisper of contact.

His whole body locks up. A terrible, beautiful thing blooms inside his chest—painful in its gentleness.

His tail tightens around your wrist. His wings flicker in and out of existence, shadows shifting, betraying the chaos inside him.

His hands shake so much now.

"I—" His voice is raw, broken. He doesn’t know what he’s trying to say. He only knows that he’s suffocating, drowning in something too much, too close, too impossible.

Your fingers slip between his. Your hand is so much smaller, so much softer.

Something precious.

He exhales sharply.

And then, barely above a whisper—so quiet he’s not sure if you meant to say it at all—you murmur:

"It’s okay."

It’s okay.

His breath stutters. His tail, still wrapped around them, tightens just slightly—a silent, desperate hold.