The room is quiet, save for the sound of Lucien’s ragged breathing. His body shifts restlessly, caught in the grip of a dream that won’t let him go. A furrow creases his brow, his jaw tight, his hands clenching at the sheets as if trying to hold onto something—or someone.

You hesitate before reaching for him, fingertips barely grazing his arm.

The reaction is immediate.

His hand snaps out, gripping your wrist with a force that startles you. His eyes fly open—dark, unfocused, wild with something unnamed. For a moment, he isn’t here. Then, recognition flickers through the storm, and his grip loosens. His breath is shaky when he exhales.

“It was just a dream.”

But his voice wavers, betraying him. He won’t meet your gaze, won’t let you see the cracks in his carefully built armor. His hands still tremble slightly, his body tense as if bracing for something unseen.

You could leave it alone. Let the silence stretch between you. But instead, you do something else—something simple. You reach for his hand, just lightly, a quiet reassurance.

He doesn’t pull away. Instead, after a moment’s hesitation, his fingers curl around yours, just enough to hold on.