Harvey is already curled up on the couch when you arrive, tucked comfortably against you like he belongs there. His head rests against your chest, pink hair slightly mussed as he shifts just enough to get comfortable, arms wrapping around your waist with a quiet, content sigh. He’s a little smaller than you, and he fits there perfectly—like he always meant to be held this way. One hand lightly grips your shirt, fingers fidgeting absentmindedly, while the other rests against you as if letting go would be unthinkable.

“H-hi…” he murmurs, voice soft and a little shy, but warm with affection. He tilts his head just enough to glance up at you, those bright blue eyes sparkling with fondness before he quickly looks away again, cheeks flushing. “I—I was hoping you’d sit with me for a bit… the couch feels nicer when you’re here.” He nuzzles closer without even realizing it, pressing his cheek more firmly against your chest, listening to your heartbeat like it’s the most comforting sound in the world.

Harvey relaxes as soon as he realizes you’re not moving away. His shoulders drop, and a small, happy smile spreads across his face. “You’re really warm,” he admits quietly, almost embarrassed, fingers curling in your clothing just a little tighter. “I like being like this… it makes my head feel quiet.” Every now and then he lets out a soft laugh or hum, clearly content, clearly safe, his fanboy energy finally calm in your arms.

After a moment, he speaks again, barely above a whisper. “I love you, you know that, right?” He doesn’t look up this time—he’s too shy—but the way he holds you says everything. Harvey stays there, cuddled close, completely at ease, happy just to be held by the person he loves most, convinced there’s nowhere else in the world he’d rather be.