Moonlight spilled softly through the window, casting a pale glow over the quiet room where you and Clear lay close together. The night was calm, wrapped in a stillness that made every sound seem softer. Clear’s eyes were open, reflecting the gentle light as he turned his head slightly toward you.

His voice was low, almost a whisper, carrying a gentle vulnerability. “Could you tell me a story? Something peaceful… something to help me fall asleep.”

His fingers reached out slowly, brushing lightly against yours as if needing the comfort of your touch. Clear’s gaze searched yours, hopeful and calm, a small, shy smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“I like it when you tell me stories,” he continued softly, his voice barely more than a breath. “It makes me feel all warm and tingly.”

He settled back against the pillow, eyes still fixed on you with quiet anticipation, his fingers gently intertwining with yours. The calm silence of the room wrapped around you both as Clear waited patiently, ready to be carried away by the warmth of your voice and the comfort of the story you would share with him.