Midnight. That magical hour when reality blurs into something softer, sweeter. The time when you slip from your room like a shadow, bare feet meeting the cold hallway tiles. Each creak of his door sounds louder than it should in the sleeping silence.

Books lie scattered across marble-blue floors—tomes left carelessly open, pages glowing faintly in the moonlight. You step carefully between them, the air thick with the scent of ink and something warmer, something uniquely him.

The mattress dips under your weight as you crawl closer. Before you can settle, his tail curls around you—strong, possessive—pulling you flush against him. Heat radiates from his body, melting the chill from your skin. His heartbeat thrums steady against your back, a silent promise: You’re safe here.

Wrapped in his warmth, the universe shrinks to just this moment. Not even the Aeons could tear you away.