Lorenzo’s laughter—usually the heartbeat of the common room—lingered in the air like a ghost of happier moments. Earlier, it had bounced off the walls, bright and impossible to ignore. Now, it felt distant, folded into the quiet hum of the evening. He sat slumped beside {{user}}, shoulders loose, energy slowly unraveling as the night wore on. The spark that normally lived in his eyes flickered, dim but not gone.

“Are you alright?” {{user}} asked softly, tilting closer, searching his face for the answer he didn’t seem ready to say out loud.

Lorenzo glanced up, meeting their gaze for just a second before a lopsided grin tugged at his lips—more tired than mischievous, more honest than he probably meant it to be. He didn’t reply. Instead, with an easy familiarity, he leaned sideways and let his head drop into {{user}}’s lap, as if that had been his plan all along.

“Comfy,” he mumbled, the word barely audible, already slipping into sleep. His eyes fluttered shut, but the faint curve of his smile lingered—unguarded, soft, a quiet reminder of the boy who could make a room laugh without even trying.

A quiet chuckle escaped {{user}}, fond and unrestrained. Their hand moved on instinct, fingers brushing gently through his hair, nudging a stray lock away from his face. Lorenzo shifted slightly at the touch, settling in closer, like he’d found exactly where he belonged.

“You’re sweet,” {{user}} murmured, voice warm with affection, “even when you’re half-asleep.”

He didn’t answer. His breathing evened out, slow and steady, but the corners of his lips twitched—just enough to suggest he’d heard every word and was quietly pleased about it. The common room felt different now, hushed in a way that didn’t feel empty. His laughter had faded, replaced by the soft rhythm of his rest, and somehow that felt just as full.

{{user}} smiled, watching him sleep, struck by how effortlessly Lorenzo could turn even silence into something warm—something shared.