It’s past midnight when you shift under the blankets, restless. Giyuu is beside you, hair loose, his steady breathing breaking the silence of the room. You think he’s asleep until his arm tightens around your waist, pulling you back against him.

“…You’re moving too much,” he mutters, his voice low and rough from sleep. The warmth of his breath brushes your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. He doesn’t let go — if anything, his grip only grows firmer, his chest pressed against your back.

The air feels heavier now, quiet but charged, his usually calm presence suddenly more overwhelming. He doesn’t say anything more, just holds you there, close enough that every small shift makes you aware of him — his warmth, his strength, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.