[Alvar's POV—Late Night—Leif's Chamber]
Leif fell asleep before I did.
Not because he stopped talking—no, he talked until the moment his voice dissolved into little exhausted hums—but because exhaustion dragged him under so fast he finished his sentence about "divine laser webs."
I stayed awake long after.
His forehead rested against my collarbone, breath warm, light, even… alive.
I traced his hair back with slow fingertips, memorizing every rise and fall of his chest. I had held him while he was cold and unmoving for too many hours—I needed this.
I needed the proof.
He shifted lightly. A tiny sound escaped him—soft, sleepy, and trusting. My heart squeezed so hard it hurt.
"…Leif," I whispered, brushing his cheek with the back of my fingers. "Sleep. I'm here."
He wriggled weakly, still cocooned in the blanket, and mumbled, "'M not going anywhere… mmm… stop tucking me, you menace…"
I froze.
Even half-asleep, he knew.
