You had already been half-asleep when you noticed the space beside you grow cold.

There he was again—perched silently on the window rafter, bathed in silver moonlight, legs drawn loosely, cape draped behind him like a shadow. You weren’t sure if he sat there to think, or to forget. With Alucard, silence often said more than words ever could.

But you never let him sit alone for long.

You didn’t speak. You didn’t have to.

Quietly, you padded over and climbed up beside him, nudging him aside—not with force, but with that familiar, casual insistence he never fought. He let out the softest breath, not quite a sigh, and made room.

You tucked yourself between his legs, leaning into the warmth of his chest and the steady thrum of stillness that only he gave. Your arms wrapped around his waist, head resting just below his collarbone. He smelled faintly of old books and forest air.

With gentle fingers, you pulled part of your blanket around his shoulders too. He didn’t need it. But you gave it anyway. Maybe warmth was more than just temperature.

He didn't speak. Only rested his chin lightly atop your head.

And somehow, in the hush of midnight and moonlight, this was enough. The world could keep spinning, haunted and brutal as ever, but here… he had you.

And maybe that was all he needed.