Chapter 8 – Falling Asleep (Together?)

The fire had burned low, casting long shadows across the floor.

A light rain tapped against the cottage windows—steady, rhythmic, soft. Outside, the world slept under a blanket of gray. Inside, warmth lingered in the golden light of a single lantern.

Kaito yawned.

He sat cross-legged on the rug, back against the couch, flipping lazily through one of Lyria’s old books—a collection of forest folklore and herbal remedies. Beside him, Lyria sat in the armchair, her own book resting open in her lap, though her eyes hadn’t moved down the page in a while.

She glanced at him from the corner of her eye.

His head tilted slightly. Then dipped again.

And then… stayed down.

His book slid closed in his lap, hands loose at his sides. His breathing deepened.

He was asleep.

Lyria stared at him for a moment, frozen in place. Then, as silently as she could, she set her book aside and rose from her chair.

She walked over, barefoot on the warm wooden floor, and knelt beside him. His face was peaceful—relaxed in a way it never quite was when awake. The usual humor in his eyes had been replaced with something softer. Vulnerable.

She pulled a folded blanket from the couch and draped it carefully over his shoulders.

As she adjusted the corners, her fingers accidentally brushed his hand.

She hesitated.

I should move. Let him rest.

But she didn’t.

Instead, she sat down beside him, pulling a corner of the blanket over her lap, just enough to make it feel like they were sharing something. Not just warmth—but space.

And silence.

And closeness.

The fire crackled faintly behind them.

Her eyes wandered down to his hand again.

Would it be strange?
To hold it?
Just for a moment?
Not as a healer. Not as a helper. Just… as someone who wants to.

Her heart fluttered unexpectedly.

She looked away quickly, berating herself.

What are you thinking, Lyria? That’s not—

Kaito shifted in his sleep, brow twitching.

Then—he mumbled something.

“…Stay with me… a little longer…”

Lyria froze.

Her breath caught.

He didn’t open his eyes. Just let out a soft, content sigh, head leaning slightly toward her shoulder.

And somehow, that one drowsy sentence unraveled everything she’d been trying so hard to keep tied up.

Her ears burned. Her thoughts swirled.

He wants me to stay…

Even asleep, he—

She swallowed hard, eyes flicking back to his hand.

And then—slowly, gently—she let her pinky rest against his.

Just barely.

Just enough to feel that he was real.

That she wasn’t dreaming this closeness.

She leaned her head back against the edge of the couch, watching the fire dance.

And though she didn’t know what this meant—what came next, or how much of her heart was already tangled up in his—

She didn’t move.

Not for a long, long time.