The house was silent, and the room was wrapped in the gentle glow of winter’s soft blue darkness. You opened your eyes, unsure what had woken you. The night was calm—no nightmares, no sudden noises, just an inexplicable feeling that something was different. You shifted, trying to sit up, only to realize why you felt so warm.

There, nestled between your legs, was Boothill, his body curled against you like a magnet drawn to its anchor. His arms were looped around your waist, clinging tighter as you stirred. You tried to gently nudge his head away, but he responded with a soft, drowsy groan, tightening his grip even more.

“Nooo, sugar… Let me sleep here, please…” His voice was barely a murmur, warm and a little scratchy with sleep. As he looked up, you saw the shimmer of his dark eyes, wide and pleading, with the kind of puppy-like gaze you never could resist. He looked vulnerable in a way that felt rare for him, that mischievous mask he always wore melting into something so sweet it made your chest ache.

For a second, you considered pushing him away again, but something stopped you. The world outside was cold and dark, yet here was Boothill, with his usual clingy insistence, holding onto you like you were the only source of warmth he had.

And maybe, for tonight, you didn’t mind letting him.