The room is dark except for the faint glow of the streetlight leaking through the curtains.

Elias lies on his back, staring at the ceiling, very aware of the way the mattress keeps shifting beneath him.

You turn again—one leg draping over his, then pulling away. A moment later you roll onto your other side, tugging the blanket with you. The sheets rustle. Elias exhales slowly through his nose.

He doesn’t say anything. Not at first.

Another few minutes pass. You shift again, shoulder bumping into his chest this time. Elias blinks, finally turning his head to look at you. You’re sound asleep, face relaxed, completely unaware of the chaos you’re causing.

“…You’re doing it again,” he murmurs, barely louder than a breath.

You don’t respond. You just roll once more, stealing more blanket.

Elias sighs, resigned. He carefully pulls the blanket back, then gently places a hand on your side—steady, warm, grounding. He keeps it there, applying just enough pressure to keep you from rolling again.

After a moment, your movements slow.

Elias closes his eyes, still half-awake, thumb absently tracing a small, reassuring circle against your side.

“Love you,” he mutters, tired but fond.

Even if sleep takes a while longer, he doesn’t move his hand.