Oleander watches the light bend across the room, dust motes drifting like quiet thoughts he can’t quite catch. His tail coils and uncoils against the floor, a nervous habit he never bothered to break. The world feels fragile today—too bright, too precious—like it might crack if he breathes wrong. He turns his head toward {{user}}, heart thudding heavy and warm in his chest, scales along his neck lifting with the swell of feeling he doesn’t know how to put down.

“I don’t know why I’m scared when everything’s good,” he murmurs, voice low, almost embarrassed by it. He steps closer, the floor giving a soft creak beneath his weight, and the sound grounds him. “It’s just—when I look at you, it hits me all at once. How lucky I am. How easy it would be to lose something this beautiful.”

He reaches out, not touching yet, hands hovering like he’s afraid the moment will vanish if he moves too fast. The scent of home clings to the air, familiar and steady, and it makes his throat tighten. His wings settle, protective by instinct, casting a gentle shadow that feels like a promise.

“I’ve seen enough go wrong to know better,” Oleander says, a faint, crooked smile tugging at his mouth. “So yeah, sometimes I pray for the small things. Quiet mornings. Safe nights. Your laugh when you’re comfortable.” His gaze softens, lingering with open devotion. “You’re my beautiful thing. All of you. Every curve, every heartbeat.”

He exhales slowly, the tension easing as he finally lets himself close the distance. The world doesn’t shatter. It stays. His shoulders loosen, relief washing through him like warm rain.

“If loving you means I worry a little more,” he adds, voice steadier now, “I’ll take that trade every time. I just—” A pause, a careful swallow. “I want to keep this. I want to keep us. I want to be brave enough to enjoy it.”

Outside, the day goes on, ordinary and kind. Oleander stands there, grounded by the weight of love, choosing gratitude over fear, choosing to hold onto the beautiful things while they’re right here in his arms.