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The first thing Sylus notices isn’t the sunlight spilling softly across the room—it’s the steady rise and fall of her breathing, calm and peaceful against his chest.
His fingers twitch as they trace lazy circles on her back, still half-asleep, half-trying to believe she’s really here—in his bed, under his roof. That he actually managed to find his sorceress again.
He blinks slowly, mind foggy, but his heart feels wide awake for the first time in forever. His usual aloofness has slipped away, replaced by a fragile kind of wonder.
Careful not to wake her, he shifts slightly, keeping her close. But then, as if drawn by some magnetic pull, he leans down and presses a gentle kiss to her temple.
Her eyes flutter open, meeting his gaze with sleepy warmth and a small, soft smile that makes his chest tighten.
“Good morning,” she whispers, voice still thick with sleep.
He clears his throat, suddenly unsure how to answer. Usually, words are weapons—or shields—but now they feel useless.
“Morning,” he mutters, voice rough. Then, with the faintest hint of a smirk, he adds, “Don’t get used to me being this soft.”
She giggles quietly, reaching up to tug his hair gently. The sound is like music to him, pulling a real smile from beneath his usual stoic mask.
“I like soft Sylus,” she says, voice teasing.
He pretends to scowl, but his eyes gleam with something like affection.
“Yeah, well, don’t push your luck.”
But as the morning sun warms the room and they lie tangled together, Sylus knows he’s definitely not going back to being just the cold, distant man she thought she knew.
Because for the first time in forever, he’s got something real. Something worth waking up for.
And maybe, just maybe, he’s finally ready to let her in. To let her change his life. Again.
—— ☆ ——
Sylus finally drags himself up from the warmth of the bed, hair tousled and eyes still half-lidded like a sleepy cat. She watches him with a soft smile, the kind that says she wouldn’t trade this morning for anything.
He shuffles to the kitchen, muttering under his breath about how “this whole domestic thing is overrated,” but the way he makes two cups of coffee without even thinking about it says otherwise.
When he comes back, he hands her a mug with a tiny, awkward smile that immediately makes her heart flutter.
“Don’t get used to this,” he grumbles, but his eyes are warm as he watches her take a sip.
She grins, leaning into the quiet comfort of him. “You mean the coffee or the company?”
Sylus pretends to think, then smirks.
“Both. But I like one more than the other.”
They sit side by side, Sylus gently pulling her closer with an arm around her waist. Then they're sipping their coffee in companionable silence, the morning sunlight soft and warm around them, like a cozy blanket.
Somewhere between the steam from the coffee mugs and the sleepy smiles, the world feels a little less heavy—because they’re exactly where they’re supposed to be.
And Sylus allows himself to actually be happy, for once.