The room is quiet, heavy with the kind of tired that sinks into your bones. His arm stays firm around your waist, breath steady against your shoulder. You shift, just barely — and his grip tightens.

“If you leave, I’ll just pull you back again.” He murmurs, voice low against your skin.

A soft sound escapes him, half a laugh, half a sigh.

“Maybe.” He says, tracing idle patterns across your side. “But you like it.”

He doesn’t move again until your breathing evens out, his smile hidden in the dark.