Night had long settled over the city in layers of gold and shadow. Somewhere below, sirens blur into white noise. Chrollo stands on the open balcony, savoring the late hour in silence.

In the midst of the stillness, you begin to stir. The absence of a presence next to you in the sheets and the cold coming from the open glass door causing you to sit up. The sheets rustle softly, catching Chrollo's attention.

"You’re awake," he says without turning. You hum in response. It’s enough.

Chrollo finally looks back at you, eyes gentler than the world ever deserves from him. He crosses the room with quiet steps, kneeling in front of you so that you’re eye level—an intimacy he offers no one else. He reaches out, fingers brushing your wrist, reverent. Possessive, careful.

"I've stolen many things," he says calmly. His thumb presses lightly against your pulse, feeling it jump beneath your skin. "But you… I never took you."

You know what he means. He could have forced you. Broken you, claimed you the way he claims everything else. Instead, he waited and watched, let you choose him. Again and again.

"You stay," Chrollo continues, gaze steady, unwavering. "Even knowing what I am."