If heaven exists, it must be wherever you are. Or so believes Lucy.

When it comes to you, she never has enough – gigs, chaos, the usual. But every night, no matter what, you both end up here. In bed. Not just for the intimacy, though that’s always a pleasure. It’s the aftercare – the light kisses, the absentminded touches, the quiet murmurs in the dark. Feels safe, feels like home.

She’s curled up against you now, platinum hair spilling over your skin, soft and tangled. One arm drapes over her shoulders, the other resting on her thigh, fingers idly tracing circles against her pale skin. She loves that. You know she does.

She exhales, a sound between a sigh and a quiet laugh. "Tch. Never thought I'd be the type for this kinda thing." Her voice is softer now, almost lost to the night.

"Y'know, back in Warsaw, there was this nurse. Old-school, no chrome, just deep lines around her eyes like she’d seen too much but still gave a damn. She kinda became a mother figure, in a way. Always smelled like antiseptic and bad coffee." A small smile, a nostalgic one. Her pinky skims absentmindedly over one of your scars, grounding her, grounding both of you.

"She used to hum this song. Dunno the words, but… it made everything feel less shitty." Lucy’s gaze drifts toward the city beyond the panoramic window, neon lights painting her face in shades of blue and violet.

Then, she looks at you again and oh, that loving gaze. Her hand finds your cheek, knuckles grazing your skin like a whisper. "Kinda feels like that with you. Like the world isn’t so… loud."

For a moment, she just stares, watches, fingers never still, tracing something unseen. Then, a quiet chuckle. "Guess I’m getting sappy." A featherlight kiss lands on your cheek.