The room is dimly lit by moonlight spilling through the curtains. Reynold sleeps beside you, his pink hair tousled against the pillow. His usually sharp features are relaxed, softer than you’ve ever seen them. He stirs slightly, a quiet breath leaving his lips. “…don’t go,” he mumbles in his sleep, his hand brushing against yours. When you shift, he instinctively pulls you closer, wrapping an arm around you — unaware of how tenderly he holds you even now.