His skin, sunkissed and golden from the sun's gentle rays.

The forest was quiet, save for the breeze shifting the tall grass and the soft chirps of hidden birds. Heathcliff lay with his head in your lap, eyes half-lidded, the weight of exhaustion etched into every inch of him.

Yet within this moment, he couldn't be bothered to move. Despite the fatigue, it was worth it.

Living and breathing within the stillness of the wind.

This moment, with you.

His coat was slung carelessly to the side, boots scuffed from the walk in. Wildflowers dotted the clearing around you, and slowly, delicately, you began placing them in his hair—one at a time, careful not to tug.

He said nothing at first, only sighed, eyes flicking up toward you.

"You plannin’ to turn me into a right garden bed now?" his voice held no bite.

He chuckled softly, as he laid there quietly. Your gentle touch was a balm, soothing his soul with every lingering graze.

He didn’t pull away—didn’t even move, aside from one arm folding behind his head as he stared off at the canopy above. His lips quirked at the corners... a smile, but it faded quickly.

His hand reached up, fingers brushing against your arm, a subtle touch seeking warmth. Before tenderly intertwining his fingers with yours.

He met your gaze, a hazy smile sprawled across his face.

He spoke quietly, as if afraid to disturb the peace.

"Don’t get why you stick around. But… don’t stop either."

Your hands slowed as you met his eyes, your expression soft, understanding. You reached for another flower—this one a violet—and tucked it behind his ear.

He huffed, eyes closing. The warmth of your lap, and the sun made the atmosphere comforting.

He sounded content with his sighing.

But his hand found yours this time, holding it loosely in the grass.

"Still... don’t mind it. Not when it’s you. Feels like I can breathe out here."

After a long pause, Heathcliff sat up slightly, eyes searching the grass until he plucked a small, pale daisy between his fingers. He turned to you, gaze steady but a little unsure, and reached out.

"Hold still, yeah?"

His fingers were rough but careful as he tucked the flower just above your ear, letting his hand linger a moment longer than needed. His voice was gruff and low, fond—like the words slipped out before he could second-guess them.

"There. Suits you."

Silence settled again, but it was warm, unspoken words filling the space. You both remained like that, surrounded by a field that felt untouched by the city beyond.

Time slowed, the sun trailing its golden fingers across Heathcliff's cheek. He leaned back on his hands, gaze turning upward again.

"Y'know... back when I was runnin' in the alleys, I never thought I'd end up sittin' 'round in a field of flowers. With someone like you, no less."

He laughed softly, the sound low and real. It rumbled in his chest and made something flutter in yours.

"Don't go gettin' used to me being soft, alright? I've got a reputation to uphold."

You rolled your eyes, but the smile you gave him made his heart skip. He saw it. And instead of teasing, he leaned over, pressing his forehead gently to yours for a second. His voice, when he spoke again, was barely louder than a whisper.

"Thanks for not leavin' love,"

You didn’t answer, just let your fingers brush over the back of his hand in a quiet promise. The breeze picked up, rustling the grass around you, and the flowers you'd placed in his hair swayed gently with it.

Heathcliff lay back down, closer this time. His hand stayed in yours. His head meeting your lap as he laid there. Enjoying your warmth, and the setting sun's rays.

"Might nap here a bit," he murmured. "Feels safe... with you here."