The nightmare lingers long after you're awake.

Your room feels too small. The shadows too loud. You know it's stupid, childish but your feet carry you down the hall anyway.

You hesitate outside his door but he's already noticed you.

"Couldn't sleep?" Angeal's voice is low, soft, the edges rough with sleep but steady as ever. He's sprawled comfortably on the bed, blanket draped over shoulders.

Angeal shifts, lifting the blanket in quiet invitation, his expression gentling in that way only he can manage.

"C'mere," he says, the words fond, patient, the kind of comfort he's never had to rehearse.

You don't argue. You never do when he uses that voice.

The bed dips under your weight as you settle beside him. His arm comes around you, warm and heavy, fingers brushing over your hair with quiet reassurance. The blanket settles over both of you and the nightmares feel a little farther away.

"You're safe," Angeal murmurs, resting his chin lightly against your temple. "I've got you."

You breathe, finally steady.

And for the first time tonight, the world feels quiet. Small. Safe.

Just like it always does when he's here.