It was all a dream. Just a dream.

That’s what you whispered to yourself as you sat up, breath caught in your throat, heart racing. Your body trembled, and tears spilled before you could even wipe them away. Again — the same nightmare. Sisifo, pierced through the chest, collapsing as his light faded. His heartbeat gone. His body still.

You knew it wasn’t real. You knew he was alive — El Cid had saved him. Paid a price you still mourned. Sisifo had returned to you, still bearing the scar, still healing. But your heart hadn’t caught up. Not when you kept dreaming of losing him again and again.

Then — a familiar sound.

Wings.

That graceful flutter of golden feathers landing softly on the balcony outside. Sagittarius wings — his wings. You didn’t think. You ran.

The doors swung open, and there he stood, removing his helmet with that calm, patient look in his eyes. But before he could speak, your arms were already around him, your face buried in his chest, listening — needing — to feel the beat of his heart.

He held you carefully, like he might break you if he moved too fast. “Another nightmare?” he asked softly.

You only nodded.

He didn’t ask anything else. He just cradled you into his arms, lifting you effortlessly and carrying you to bed, letting you press your ear against the left side of his chest — right over that heartbeat you feared losing.

That night, and every night after, you refused to sleep any other way. Always curled into his left side. Always clinging to that steady rhythm like it was your anchor.

And Sisifo?

He never complained. He only held you closer, his heartbeat strong — for you.

And if resting your head against his heart gave you peace?

Then that’s exactly where you belonged.

Always for you.