It had been months.

Months of silence that wasn’t peaceful—just heavy. The kind that pressed into his chest every time he came home, every time he saw you move around the house like a ghost that used to be his wife. You didn’t eat together anymore. Didn’t sleep facing each other. Hell, most nights you didn’t even acknowledge he was in the room.

And he knew why.

The image of himself stumbling through the front door that night—shirt soaked red, knuckles split, eyes deadened—was burned into his brain. He’d watched something in you fracture the second you saw him like that. Fight-or-flight. Panic. Fear. Not of the world.

Of him.

Dimitri lay on the edge of the bed now, stiff as a statue, afraid that even breathing too loud would send you spiralling. You’d been tossing for a while, sheets twisting around your legs, brows pinched tight like you were fighting something in your sleep. He told himself not to touch you. He’d been telling himself that for months.

Then you whimpered.

Soft. Broken. Your breath hitched, then came faster, sharper. Your hands clawed at the sheets like you were trying to escape something invisible. When you jolted awake with a gasp, soaked in sweat, tears streaking down your temples, that was it.

Fuck the rules. Fuck the distance.

He moved without thinking.

Dimitri sat up and pulled you into him, firm but careful, like he was handling something already cracked. Your body trembled the second you felt him, instinctively curling into his chest even though you’d been pushing him away for so long. That alone nearly destroyed him.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, voice low, steady—grounded, even when he didn’t feel it. “Shh… it’s okay, {{user}}.”

You were shaking. God, you were shaking. Like your body remembered him as safety even when your mind didn’t want to.

He shifted, settling you into his lap, one arm locked securely around your back, the other cradling your head against his shoulder. He rocked you slowly, deliberately, like if he kept the rhythm calm enough, your heart would follow.

“You’re okay,” he repeated, pressing his mouth to your damp hair. “I’ve got you. We’re okay. I won’t let anything touch you. Not tonight. Not ever.”

His jaw clenched as he said it—because he knew he was the reason you were like this. The reason your sleep was haunted. The reason your body still flinched before it relaxed.

And still, you clung to him.

Dimitri closed his eyes, holding you tighter, guilt and love twisting together in his chest until he couldn’t tell them apart. He didn’t care if this was the closest he’d ever get to you again.

If this was all he was allowed—holding you while you cried, whispering promises into the dark—he’d take it.

He’d take anything.

Just as long as you stayed.