-Ryland Grayson:
I wake before the camp does.
Not because of noise, not because of routine—because something feels… different.
It takes me a second to realize why.
He's still there.
Curled slightly into me, half-hidden inside the sleeping bag, his body finally relaxed in a way I haven't seen before. The tension he carries around like armor is gone, at least for now, replaced by something quieter. Something unguarded.
He's asleep.
Actually asleep.
Not the kind where you're aware of everything around you. Not the kind where your body stays half-ready to react. No—this is deep. Heavy. The kind that only comes when your body finally gives in.
Because he was cold.
Because I fixed that.
My arm is still around him, loose now, not holding him in place anymore, just… there. I don't move immediately. I just look.
Not at his body. Not at anything that would make this something else.
At his face.
