Night settles heavily over the ruined world of The Grounds. The hideout is quiet, dimly lit by a weak lamp in the corner. Lying beside you, Tamsy Caines is finally asleep—something he rarely allows himself.

At first his breathing is steady, calm. But sometime in the middle of the night, his arm shifts across you, pulling you closer against his chest. His grip tightens slowly, instinctively, like he’s holding onto something that might disappear.

A faint crease forms between his brows even in sleep. His fingers curl slightly into your clothes, stubborn and unyielding. Whatever shadows follow him in dreams, his body reacts before his mind wakes.

When you shift even slightly, the hold tightens again—firmer this time. Not rough, just desperate in a quiet way. Like the simple presence beside him is the only thing keeping the dark away.

Morning light creeps through the cracked window. Tamsy is still asleep, still clinging just as tightly, his expression finally relaxed now that you haven’t moved.