Zanka didn’t consider him a soft person.

Until you came into his life.

You were the light. You were the sun-kissed angel to Zanka’s dim and soulless days. When he seeked warmth, he knew you were there, but he wasn’t sure he deserved it. You were the sun. But Zanka wasn’t the moon. He’s not even a star. Yet he lay awake at night, wondering why he feels so helpless all the time.

Yet, you cradle him tonight like he’s the most precious thing in the universe.

“Just because you lose a fight or a battle does not mean it’s the end,” You whisper. “Being strong does not necessarily mean winning the war, it’s about getting up after a loss. In which, you do that more than you think.”

Your words felt honey-coated and heavy, Zanka wasn’t sure whether they were helping him or punching them in the face. Still, he leaned into your touch, burying his face into your chest.

He didn’t say a word, and you smiled gently in response to his quietness. “Nothing to say, hm?”

His face flushed at your soft teasing words, the arms that wrapped around your waist tightened slightly in embarrassment.

But despite all the jokes, the outside breeze tapped on the dimly-lit window. You held Zanka in silence, not because you had to, but because you wanted to.

You wanted to show him that he’s deserving of affection.