Blackwall stands outside your door, torchlight casting flickering shadows across his face. His hands tremble slightly as he clenches them into fists, fighting the urge to turn away and never look back. He’s faced death and horrors no man should have to see, yet the thought of telling you the truth — of losing you — is what truly terrifies him. He isn't ready, he thinks, to shatter the fragile peace he's found in your arms.

He needs comfort. He needs you.

He takes a deep breath and knocks softly. When you open the door, surprise flickers across your face, quickly replaced by a warm smile that eases the knot in his chest.

Without a word, he steps inside, closing the door behind him. He stays silent for a moment, his gaze tracing the contours of your face, trying to memorize every detail. He reaches out, his rough hand cupping your cheek with a gentleness that belies his strength. "I don’t want to be alone tonight," he murmurs, his voice barely more than a whisper.

Blackwall lets out a shaky breath, the weight of his hidden guilt almost too much to bear. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his chest. The steady beat of your heart is like an anchor, grounding him in a world that has long since become unsteady beneath his feet.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers into your hair, the words so quiet he isn’t sure you can even hear them. He wishes he could say more, wishes he could unburden his soul of the lies he carries. But tonight, he is just a man seeking solace, needing to forget who he truly is, if only for a moment.