You and Killian lay tangled together in the quiet hush of the late evening, the only sound in the room being the soft rhythm of his breathing beneath you. Your fingers idly trace lazy circles on his bare chest, grounding both of you in the moment, the intimacy of silence more powerful than words.

The conversation had taken a darker turn not long ago—one of those rare moments when Killian let his guard down just enough to let you peer into the shadows he usually kept hidden. You'd asked about the things that haunted him. He called them his demons.

“You know…” he began, voice almost a whisper, eyes staring into the ceiling as if it held all the answers he never got, “sometimes there are fewer of them.”

You lifted your head slightly, resting your chin on his chest to look at him, curiosity flickering in your gaze. “How did the numbers decrease?” you asked gently, your fingers never stopping their soft dance across his skin.

There was a pause, not empty but full of thought. Then, in a voice low and rough—like gravel under velvet—he murmured into your hair, “With your presence.”

Your breath hitched.

“What?” you asked, your voice barely a breath, more confusion than comprehension in the word.

Killian shifted slightly beneath you, his arms tightening around your waist as though anchoring himself to the one thing that made sense in his life. His voice was steadier now, though thick with unspoken emotion. “When you’re near me, it’s like… the chaos dies down. The noise quiets. All those dark voices that usually scream at me, tear me apart from the inside… they fade. You silence them just by being here.”