Safety, in the Shape of You

Sky Maddox — POV

The lights were off in his room.

Except for the soft glow from the window where the city blinked, far too alive for the way my soul felt tonight.

I opened the door quietly. Didn't want to startle him. Didn't want to give myself time to change my mind.

Sebastian was curled on his side, shirt half-untucked, one arm under his pillow. His bruised knuckles bandaged clumsily—the same way I used to wrap his hands when he was little and scraped them climbing too high. Always too high.

Tonight he bled again. For me.

And he didn't even have to.

I stepped in, barefoot, the wood cold under my feet, heart heavier than it had been in years.

I used to be so good at pretending.

But I don't think I can anymore.

I sat at the edge of his bed first. Just watching. He was already asleep—his lashes long, his chest rising slow. Still my baby. Always.

I ran my fingers gently through his hair, soft and dark like when he was four and insisted I never cut it because he thought he looked like a prince.

And then, before I could stop myself—I slid under the blanket.

I didn't mean to.

But I needed it.

I needed him.

I curled behind him and wrapped my arm around his waist, pressing my cheek to his back. He twitched slightly in his sleep. Then relaxed.

I didn't say a word.

Because what was there to say?

That I was scared?

That the ghosts never left?

That seeing Rain again, touching me like he still owned me, made me want to vanish into myself?

I didn't have to say any of it.

Because Sebastian was here.

He'd fought for me. Without needing permission. Without needing thanks.

And for the first time in years, I felt safe.

Not because the danger was gone.

But because he was there.

"I love you," I whispered into his spine, just barely.

He didn't answer.

But his hand reached down and gently gripped mine under the blanket.

And that was enough.

That was everything.