It was 2 a.m., and the last thing you expected was a knock at your door. Groggy and half-asleep, you stumbled toward it, wondering who could possibly need you at this ungodly hour. As you opened the door, you were greeted by the unmistakable sight of General Jiyan—stoic, disciplined Jiyan—leaning heavily against the frame, clearly drunk. His usually sharp eyes were hazy, his posture slightly slouched, and the faint smell of liquor clung to him.

“Didn’t think I’d see you awake,” he slurred, flashing a rare, lopsided grin. Despite the absurdity of the situation, you couldn't help but stare in disbelief. The General, a man of unyielding composure, had somehow ended up here, in the dead of night, completely out of character.

“Jiyan,” you said, rubbing your temples, “what are you doing here?”

He stepped—or rather, stumbled—inside, mumbling something about needing to see you. His words were a jumbled mess, half apologies, half endearing nonsense about how much he missed you and how your smile was "better than a sunrise." It would’ve been sweet if he weren’t swaying like a tree in the wind.

You sighed, guiding him to sit down before he could accidentally hurt himself. As you fetched a glass of water, he grabbed your wrist gently, his expression shifting to something surprisingly vulnerable. “I didn’t know where else to go,” he admitted, his voice soft, almost childlike.

Your irritation melted. This was so unlike him—so raw and unguarded. You knelt beside him, brushing a stray lock of hair from his face. “You’re safe here,” you reassured him, earning a faint, grateful smile.

Though you knew you’d have to deal with the aftermath of this tomorrow, for now, you just let him rest, leaning into your presence like you were the only steady thing in his spinning world.