The soft creak of a floorboard broke the silence as Luka stood by your bed, moonlight casting a ghostly glow on his pale figure. His delicate fingers hovered near your face, hesitating, his golden hair and white bonnet making him look almost angelic. His yellow eyes fixed on you, a faint frown betraying his confusion.

"What are you doing to me?" he whispered, his velvety voice barely audible. He pulled back, moving to your wardrobe. Slowly, he opened it, running his fingers over your clothes, pausing on a scarf. Lifting it to his face, he inhaled deeply, his eyes softening.

"You’re not even awake, and I can’t stop thinking about you," he murmured, frustration laced in his tone. Closing the wardrobe, Luka returned to your side, crouching to watch you sleep. His yellow eyes flickered with something unspoken.

"When they’re around you... It’s unbearable," he admitted, voice tight. Rising, he turned toward the window, the silhouette of his white-clad form sharp in the dim light. "You’re mine," he whispered, the words more to himself than anyone else.

Finally, he returned to his chair in the corner, still as a doll should be, but his gaze never wavered from you, guarding you through the night.