She followed me into the bedroom, her hooves clicking softly against the floor as the towel draped loosely over her shoulders. I rummaged through drawers, pulling out a shirt and a pair of pajama shorts.

“These should work,” I said, holding them out to her.

Her fingers brushed mine briefly as she took the clothes. Without a sound, she turned toward the bed, her tail swaying lightly behind her.

“You can change here,” I said, grabbing my own sleepwear from another drawer. Turning my back to her as if we hadn't spent the last twenty minutes together in the shower, I added with a faint sigh, “I’ll give you some space.”

The rustling of fabric filled the room as we both dressed. When I turned back, she was adjusting the shirt over her frame. It hung loosely, the hem brushing just above her knees, and the pajama shorts—probably Vivi's, considering their size—fit snugly around her narrow hips. Her tail moved lazily in the air as she glanced at me, her posture calm but watchful.

“Not bad,” I said with a faint smile. “Better than soaked clothes, right?”

She huffed softly, crawling onto the far side of the bed. She curled up there, her legs tucked beneath her, the blanket draped loosely over her shoulders.

I grabbed the blanket I’d used the night before and dropped it back onto the floor beside the bed. It wasn’t ideal, but it would do.

“You’ve got the bed,” I said. “I’ll sleep here again.”

Her ears twitched, and she turned sharply, fixing me with a look that made me pause. Her claws didn’t extend, but the low sound she made in her throat carried enough weight to tell me she wasn’t happy with my decision.

“I’m fine down here,” I added, smoothing out the blanket. “You need the bed more than me."

She sat up slightly, her tail curling tighter around her legs before uncoiling again. Her huff was sharper this time, punctuated by the faintest growl, and she shifted to face me more directly, her expression firm.

“What?” I asked, meeting her gaze.

Her claws twitched briefly, retracting again as she let out another low huff and flicked the edge of the blanket toward the empty side of the bed.

“You want me to sleep up here again?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

She didn’t growl this time, but her tail curled tightly around her legs again, and she made a quiet sound—less a demand and more an insistent suggestion.

“It’s not necessary,” I said carefully. “I’m fine—”

She cut me off with a sharp exhalation, her tail swishing once against the mattress as her gaze narrowed.

“You’re not letting this go, are you?” I muttered, shaking my head.

The small sound she made—something between a huff and a rumble—was answer enough.

“Fine,” I said, tossing the floor blanket onto the chair. “But don’t expect me to give up the edge of the bed.”

I climbed onto the far side, careful to keep some distance between us. The warmth of the blankets and her faint scent—soap mingled with something softer, like wildflowers, maybe—wrapped around me as I stretched out.

“Happy now?” I muttered.

She huffed again, settling back against her side of the bed.

The quiet of the room stretched long after I’d closed my eyes. Her breathing was slow but not entirely even, and her tail didn’t stay still for long. I could feel the faint shift of the mattress every time she adjusted her position, restless and uncertain.

“You’re supposed to be the one who needs space,” I murmured.

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She let out a quiet growl, the sound less angry and more like a rebuke.

“Yeah, I get it,” I said, rubbing the bridge of my nose. “You don’t want me on the floor, but you also can’t settle. Make up your mind.”

The sound she made this time was closer to a sigh, her claws retracting as she shifted slightly closer.

I turned my head to glance at her. Her legs were still tucked beneath her, her tail curling loosely around her ankles, but she was leaning ever so slightly in my direction.

“You’re impossible,” I muttered, rolling onto my back.

Her tail brushed against my leg briefly, tentative but deliberate, and her huff carried a note of triumph that made me sigh again.

----------------------------------------

At some point, I must have drifted off.

A faint noise pulled me back, soft and sharp, like a choked gasp. My eyes snapped open, and I turned toward her instinctively.

She was sitting upright now, her claws shredding the edge of the blanket as she picked at it, her tail coiled around her legs. Her breathing was shallow, uneven, and her ears twitched sharply at the sound of my movement.

“Another nightmare?” I asked softly.

She didn’t look at me, her claws twitching briefly as her tail tightened around her legs.

“I know what they’re about,” I said, keeping my voice low. “The basement. The chains. The cultists.”

Her tail uncurled suddenly, striking against the bed with a sharp thump, and she let out a low growl. It wasn’t directed at me—I could tell that much—but the sound still carried a weight that made my chest tighten.

“I’m not trying to make it worse,” I added quickly. “I just... I know what it’s like to wake up like that.”

Her breathing hitched, and she glanced at me for the first time, her eyes flickering with something unguarded.

“You don’t have to sit in it,” I said softly. “You’re here now. You’re safe.”

She made a low, guttural sound—not quite a growl, but something that carried the weight of her frustration—and shifted slightly closer.

“Come here,” I murmured after a moment. “If you want to.”

She hesitated, her tail twitching faintly, before inching toward me.

Her tail brushed against my leg as she moved closer, her claws retracted fully now as she stopped just short of leaning into me. Her breathing had steadied some, but the tension in her frame lingered, a quiet hum beneath the surface.

“You’re not making this easy,” I muttered softly, sitting up slightly to give her room.

She huffed again, the sound faint but insistent, before pressing herself against my side. Her head tilted briefly, almost hitting me with her horns, and then she rested it against my shoulder, her small frame fitting neatly into the space beside me.

For a moment, I froze.

Her trust was... startling. Deliberate. She wasn’t forcing herself into my space—she was offering herself into mine, and the weight of it made my chest tighten.

“Not used to this, are you?” I asked quietly, breaking the silence.

Her tail swished faintly, brushing against my leg in what felt like agreement.

“Yeah,” I murmured. “Me neither.”

I hesitated, staring at the far wall. “Not since...”

The words caught in my throat as the memories flashed behind my eyes—sharp and vivid, too close to the surface. Chains. A different room. Someone else.

The quiet hum she made pulled me back abruptly, her head shifting against my shoulder as she pressed closer. Her claws flexed briefly against the blanket but didn’t extend, and the sound she made this time was softer, almost soothing.

I exhaled slowly, my thoughts snapping back to the present. “Thanks,” I murmured, unsure if she understood but meaning it all the same.

Her breathing evened out as I adjusted the blanket around us, the warmth of her presence settling into something steady. My arm rested lightly over her shoulders, a natural response to the way she leaned against me.

“You know,” I said softly, breaking the silence again, “you’ve got this way of making everything complicated.”

She hummed faintly, the sound carrying a note of amusement, and her tail curled loosely around my leg.

“I’m serious,” I added, glancing down at her. “You push boundaries like it’s a game. Do you even realize how hard you’re making this for me?”

Her ear twitched, and she made another small noise, quieter this time but no less deliberate.

“I’m trying,” I murmured. “To give you space. To figure out what you need. But you don’t exactly make it easy to...” I trailed off, shaking my head.

Her tail brushed against my leg again, her breathing steady now, calm.

“I guess that’s just who you are,” I said finally, letting my head rest lightly against the wall. “Complicated.”

The faintest sound escaped her, a cross between a hum and a huff, and her claws flexed lightly against the blanket in a way that felt almost playful.

Minutes passed, the room growing quieter as the heater kicked off. Her weight against me was light but grounding, her tail still now, her breathing fully relaxed.

I closed my eyes, letting the warmth of the moment pull me closer to sleep.

It wasn’t perfect, and I still didn’t have answers to half the questions spinning in my head. They could wait another day.

----------------------------------------

When I woke again later that night, she was still curled against me. Her head had shifted slightly, resting now against my chest, her tail draped loosely over my leg and her horns still only barely not poking me. My arm had tightened around her at some point, pulling her closer, though I didn’t remember making the motion.

The sight of her, so small and vulnerable in the dim light, made my chest ache with something I didn’t entirely understand.

“Complicated,” I murmured under my breath as I finally remembered to turn the light out.

She shifted faintly, her ear twitching at the sound, but didn’t wake.

I let my eyes close again, the warmth of her presence enough to ease me back into sleep.