You woke up with a frown already carved into your face, limbs heavy and heart inexplicably wounded. The dream still clung to you like static—Wriothesley, cold and distant, brushing off your hand, looking at you with disinterest. Saying things you knew he’d never say. But it felt so real.

So when he stirred beside you, groggy and warm, you didn’t curl into his chest like you usually did. You turned the other way. Blanket tugged firmly around your shoulders.

At first, he didn’t notice. Just reached lazily toward where your waist usually was. His arm landed on empty mattress. A confused grunt followed.

He blinked once. Twice. Then sat up slightly. “Huh.”

You didn’t budge. The silence was pointed.

He shifted behind you, expression puzzled. When he leaned in, you subtly leaned away. His brow furrowed.

You weren’t dramatic. But you weren’t subtle either.

Throughout the morning, you said little. Gave him short nods instead of your usual sleepy affection. You didn’t let him pour your tea like always. You took the cup before he could.

Wriothesley just stared at you, genuinely baffled.

He followed you around the Fortress like a very large and confused dog. Hovering. Watching. Saying nothing, but clearly trying to understand the offense he had unknowingly committed.

At one point, he reached to brush your hair from your face. You ducked under his arm like mist slipping through fingers.

Now he was really concerned.

He racked his brain. Had he forgotten something? Missed a promise? Said something offhanded last night?

He cornered you in the hallway eventually, one hand braced over your head, eyes searching yours like they held the final clue.

Still no words from you. Just a tight press of your lips and narrowed eyes, the memory of dream-him still souring your mood.

Then finally—your poker face cracked just enough. His eyes widened slightly in realization.

“…Was it a dream?” he asked slowly, voice low and careful.

You didn’t answer.

But the way your shoulders tensed?

Yeah. It was a dream.

His expression softened almost instantly. A quiet sigh escaped him as he leaned his forehead against yours, the barest ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips.

No teasing. No jokes.

Just a warm hand sliding gently around your waist.

Because he knew exactly how real those dreams could feel.

And if it took the rest of the day to undo the imaginary damage? He was more than willing.