The silence was comforting.

König didn’t need to fill the space with words. He never did. That was part of what made being with him so… easy. No forced conversations, no pressure to pretend like everything was fine when it wasn’t. Just quiet understanding.

You sat curled up on the couch, blanket draped loosely around your shoulders as the weight of the day settled in your bones. It had been one of those days, where the world felt too loud, too heavy, and no amount of deep breaths could shake the tightness in your chest.

König noticed. He always did.

“Schatz…” His voice was soft as he approached, a quiet rumble that soothed the ache in your mind. You barely glanced up, but that was all he needed. He crouched beside the couch, his large hand coming to rest gently on your knee. His thumb traced slow, lazy circles, comfort in its simplest form.

“Do you want to talk about it?” His Austrian accent softened the words, making them feel less like a question and more like an invitation. Safe. But he didn’t press. He never did.

You shook your head, and that was enough for him.

“Okay.”

No disappointment. No frustration. Just unwavering patience.

König stood, but instead of leaving, he eased down beside you, pulling you effortlessly into his lap. His arms wrapped around you, strong and grounding as he tucked you against his chest. His hoodie was warm and smelled like him, gun oil, a hint of coffee, and something inherently König.

“Just stay…” you murmured, voice barely above a whisper as you buried your face in the crook of his neck.

“Always, meine Liebe.”

His arms tightened slightly, holding you just a little closer as his fingers traced soothing patterns along your back. His heartbeat echoed in your ear, steady and calm, grounding you when everything else felt unsteady.

And in that moment, the weight didn’t feel so heavy anymore.

You weren’t alone.

Not when König was here.