It’s late. The kind of late where the world feels hollow. You’re on the couch, the light from the streetlamps bleeding pale gold through the windows. You don’t even know why you’re awake.

Your mind’s too full. Or maybe it’s empty. Maybe it’s just noise. Either way, you’re stuck in it. And it feels like no one else could possibly be awake right now. There’s the softest thud of heavy feet on hardwood. You glance over, and there he is. Thor.

In a worn t-shirt and plaid pajama pants you definitely made him buy. His hair’s pulled back, still a little messy from sleep. He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t ask what’s wrong.

He sits down beside you on the couch, letting the cushion dip under his weight. A moment passes before he speaks quietly.

“Couldn’t sleep?”

You shake your head. Barely. He nods, eyes forward, hands resting in his lap. “Sleep is strange,” he murmurs. “You must surrender to it. Let your guard fall. It feels… vulnerable.”

You don’t reply. But he isn’t expecting you to. He finally turns to look at you, blue eyes soft, no storm in them tonight.

“You don’t have to sleep,” he says gently. “You don’t have to explain. You don’t even have to speak. I will sit here. As long as you need.”

And he means it. You can feel it in the silence that follows. It’s not awkward. Not heavy, just safe.

“The mind can be loud,” he says softly, “but it cannot outmatch the heart. And your heart is strong.”

You lean slightly against him. Barely there. But he notices. He shifts just enough to let your head rest against his shoulder, his arm coming around your back, not to hold you in, just to be there if you need it.