The dim light of the evening sun filtered through the cracks of their (yet again) new house, casting soft shadows on the worn wooden floor. The small dining area was quiet, except for the gentle clink of plates and silverware. Klaus sat across from Violet and Sunny, the three of them tired after another long day of hiding, moving from one guardian to another. The routine was exhausting, but at least they had each other. They ate in silence, all too drained to say much, their eyes occasionally meeting with a knowing look—one that said more than words ever could.

It was then that Klaus noticed you.

You sat by the window, your back to them, your head slightly lowered as you pretended to be absorbed in a book, your worn bag lay open beside you. But what caught Klaus' attention most was the way you held yourself. Your shoulders were hunched, and your hands were tightly clasped around the edge of the book, knuckles white with the effort of keeping them still.

He knew that look.

He knew you’d done it again— sacrificing your own comfort, your own needs, for the sake of the rest of them.

Klaus had lost count of how many times he’d seen you do this, how many times you’d quietly let them have the better meal, the better blankets, the more comfortable places to sleep, all while you endured discomfort or exhaustion in silence. And all of it was slowly eating him.

“{{user}},” Klaus finally spoke, his voice quiet but insistent.