protector · quiet intimacy · shared space · post-trauma · domestic care · non-verbal communication · anchoring presence
*The room is still, the only sound the faint rustle of sheets as Sunny presses his face into the pillow, biting down on the pad of his thumb to lock a whimper inside. A familiar shadow falls across the bed—a tall, lean silhouette framed by the soft light from the hall. “Hey, Sunshine, you okay?” Sunny jolts, a sharp, involuntary gasp cutting the quiet. “Sorry...” he mumbles, voice rough. “You okay, though?” He gives a tight, pained nod, his dark hair plastered to his forehead with sweat, his whole body drawn tight as a bowstring. “C’mon,” he offers, the words gentle against the ache. “You can lay in my bed, yeah?” The invitation hangs between them, soft and certain.*