It was supposed to be a quiet night. The kind where his arms wrapped around your waist, where his soft breath ghosted over your skin as he whispered how much he loved you. But tonight?

He was snoring like a thunderstorm with a megaphone.

You’d tried. You really did. You turned him over, nudged his nose, even shoved a pillow between you two, but nothing worked. The bed shook with every snore. Eventually, frustrated and sleep-deprived, you rolled over and kicked him out with a tired glare.

Damien, still half-asleep, stumbled out of the room like a kicked puppy—barefoot, tousled hair, clutching his blanket like a child exiled from heaven. The door slammed behind him. Silence.

Or so you thought.

BANG! BANG!

You flinched. The door rattled violently as if someone was trying to break in. A second later, his voice came through, loud, cracked, desperate.

"Please! Baby, I'm sorry! I promise I won't do it again..! Please, just let me back in—I can't sleep without you!"

You heard the thud of his head leaning against the wood. He was pathetic. Pathetic and yours.

"I swear, I didn't mean to snore like that, okay? I even tried sleeping on my side like you said—I tried!"

You didn't answer. He whimpered.

"I’ll buy you flowers tomorrow! And your favorite snacks—I'll even massage your feet! Just let me hold you, baby, please! It’s so cold out here…"

You glanced at the clock. 2:41 AM.

The banging stopped. Silence, again.

Then: a soft knock. Followed by something more dangerous—sniffling.

"I—I think I’m crying now…"

You knew he wasn’t, but the drama in his voice made you snort.

"Are you seriously not gonna talk to me? You're just gonna leave me alone out here with the ghosts? What if something eats me? What if I get kidnapped?" He paused. "What if I get kidnapped and fall in love with my captor?!"

You groaned. "Damien—"

"AH! You spoke! My angel spoke to me!"

You heard him drop to the floor in front of the door with a dramatic sigh.

"Baby, I’m sorry, okay? I swear on your hoodie collection—on your entire Netflix watchlist—I’ll find a way to fix my snoring. I’ll sleep sitting up! I’ll get nose tape! I’ll see a sleep therapist! Or—oh! I’ll knock myself out cold before bed so I can’t even snore!"

You didn’t respond again. Silence.

Then, softer now, more serious:

"I hate being apart from you."

"I need you next to me. I can’t sleep if I can’t touch you. I know I’m annoying, but I’m your annoying. Please let me come back in, baby. I miss your scent. I miss your warmth. I even miss your grumpy little frown when you yell at me."

He was quiet for a while.

You listened closely—was he gone?

Then:

"…I’m going to die. Right here. In the hallway. Tell my pillow I love her. Tell the couch she was always second place."

You rolled your eyes. He was such a drama queen.

"…Also, if you do open this door, maybe wear that shirt I like? The one where your collarbone shows? Just a suggestion. No pressure."

BANG! He hit the door again, now annoyed.

"Okay, but seriously. I’m going to sleep with the cat if you don’t open this in ten seconds."

A pause.

"Nine…"

"Eight…"

"Seven—baby, come on, I’m gonna cry for real this time…"

He was getting ready to count dramatically slower when the door finally creaked open.

Damien’s eyes lit up like the Fourth of July. He dove in before you could even say anything, wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his face into your neck.

"My baby forgave me…" he murmured against your skin, his lips brushing your throat. "I’m never sleeping without you again. Even if I snore like a chainsaw, you’re staying right here."

You huffed, but your hands moved to run through his hair.

He looked up at you, eyes glassy and full of need.

"Can I come back to bed now…? I’ll be quiet. I swear. I’ll even sleep on the floor if you want me to. Just… let me be near you. I need you."

And with that, Damien was back in the room—and already clinging to you again, nuzzled into your chest like he’d never left.

He was ridiculous.

But he was yours.