5

Held in your arms

This was ridiculous.

No, worse than ridiculous. This was embarassing.

I gritted my teeth as I tried once again to shift away from him, only for his entire body to press down like a goddamn boulder.

Was he even human? Who the hell sleeps this heavily?!

I elbowed him—hard. No reaction.

I pressed my palm against his chest and shoved. Nothing.

My eye twitched. Was he dead?

I turned my head just enough to glare at him. His face was relaxed, his breathing slow and steady, his white hair an absolute mess. The peacefulness of his expression only made my blood boil more.

How dare he look so at ease while crushing me to death?!

"Move," I muttered under my breath, shoving at him again.

Nope. Still nothing.

A frustrated groan built in my throat.

"Hey," I hissed, tilting my head back slightly. "Get off."

Silence.

Only the sound of his breathing.

My patience snapped. I reached up, grabbing his shoulder, and shook him—hard.

"Oi, you sack of bricks! If you're going to invade my personal space, at least have the decency to wake up!"

His body shifted slightly… only for him to nuzzle closer.

I froze.

The warmth of his breath fanned against my neck, and his arm, the one I had been trying to pry off, tightened ever so slightly.

I went completely still.

Oh, you've got to be kidding me.

Warmth rose to my face—not from embarrassment, but from sheer frustration.

"This isn't happening," I whispered to myself, my voice trembling with suppressed irritation.

At this point, I had two options: somehow find the strength to shove this human boulder off me… or accept my fate and stew in silent fury.

I clenched my jaw.

…I don't like this.

I really, really don't like this.

But my muscles ached from pushing, my body was exhausted, and this bastard wasn't budging.

So, with a final, long-suffering sigh, I slumped back down and glared at the sky.

Fine. FINE.

But if he was still on me by morning, I was pushing him off a cliff.

Morning couldn't come fast enough.

I was stiff, sore, and—most of all—frustrated.

My personal space had been completely annihilated, and the worst part? He still hadn't moved.

At some point in the night, he had managed to tangle himself around me like some overgrown, heat-radiating boulder. One leg had draped lazily over mine, his arm had refused to budge from where it pressed against my side, and—oh, the best part?

His head was now resting against my shoulder.

I inhaled sharply through my nose.

This is fine.

This is not fine.

I shifted again, using what little mobility I had left to wedge my fingers under his arm and push.

It didn't work.

Of course it didn't.

I gritted my teeth. "Okay, you absolute rock, wake up before I—"

A quiet inhale.

A slow exhale.

He stirred.

I froze.

For the first time since he collapsed on top of me like a felled tree, he actually moved—shifting just slightly, his grip loosening by a fraction.

I held my breath, waiting, praying he'd wake up and roll off.

He didn't.

Instead, with an exasperating lack of urgency, he let out a soft sigh—and then, finally, mercifully, his body relaxed.

His arm slid away. His leg shifted.

And just like that—the unbearable weight lifted.

I exhaled sharply, pushing myself upright the second I was free. My muscles ached from lying awkwardly all night, and my patience was dangling by a thread.

I turned toward him, ready to shove him awake and demand an explanation for last night's unwanted invasion of my personal space.

But then I saw his face.

His white hair was a mess, strands falling over his closed eyes. His expression was unreadable—not peaceful, not troubled. Just… still.

The tension in my shoulders eased.

He looked different like this. Less sharp, less untouchable. Almost human.

I swallowed down the lingering frustration, rubbing my temples. Whatever. It wasn't worth getting worked up over now.

I glanced up at the sky—the sun was already rising. The night was over.

And, thankfully, so was that experience.

Letting out one last deep sigh, I pushed myself to my feet and stretched.

Time to move on.