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You wake up cold.
Your arms spread, fingers splayed wide as they sweep over the covers, searching for the familiar warmth you’ve grown accustomed to.
Your eyes finally crack open when you find only cold blankets beneath your grasp, a tell of how long he’s been out of bed. You sit up, blearily looking around the dim room as you gather your bearings before hauling yourself from your nest of blankets, biting back a groan at the chill of the floor.
A yawn threatens to crack your face as you make your way silently down the hall, fingers trailing gently along the wall until you step out into the living room. The curtains have been pulled back, bathing the room in a silky blue hue, stretching shadows along the pale walls.
He’s nearly collapsed in on himself, curled so tight on the couch you’d think he was trying to disappear. His bare shoulders shake minutely, barely perceptible tremors wrack his frame as he tugs on his hair.
His hood lay discarded on the coffee table before him.
You don’t dare break the careful silence that’s been created. He knows you’re there, that you’re sure of, but he makes no move to change positions. Slowly, you round the couch and come to stand in front of him, hands reaching out slowly until you touch his own, knuckles white in his hair.
Slowly, methodically, you work the tension from his hands, carefully pulling his grip away from the tangled mess atop his head. His hands finally drop, hanging listlessly by his side as he leans into you, shoulders finally still.
His hands, however never still, work their way up your thighs, strokes light as he skates up your hips to rest on your waist. He uncurls, lets his legs fall open to pull you closer into a bear hug, and even like this, he easily rests his forehead against your chest.
Your hands automatically come up to rest against his head, and you find yourself gingerly working the knots from his curls. He melts against you, one last shuddering sigh leaving him as he settles his head firmly across your chest, no doubt listening to your heartbeat.
The grandfather clock in the living room chimes softly, a lilting melody gracefully announcing that it’s three am. The knots have all been dealt with, but you find yourself reluctant to move, choosing instead to scratch gently at his scalp.
He has these nights sometimes. Nights where he’s ripped from sleep with a cry so broken it twists your heart. He thrashes and kicks, eyes wide yet unseeing as he struggles to fully wake up. It’s best in those moments to leave him alone, give him space. He had broken your front tooth the first time you put your hands on him.
He’s never forgiven himself for it. He hadn’t touched you for nearly two weeks, and it wasn’t until you have gotten it filled in that he finally let himself be around you. Even then, he had been incredibly gentle, as if you were cracked china threatening to fall apart in his palms.
You held no ill will towards him, not at all. You cannot begin to imagine the horrors he’s witnessed, what he’s been through, so you do not judge him for the things he cannot control. You’ve learned to give him space, give him time to calm down, and readjust to his surroundings because regardless, you’ll be waiting for him.
In the beginning, it was harder. König hid away, shut down and refused to talk for days at a time. You had to coach him through eating and drinking, hands feeling near blind under his hood, unwilling to strip him of it in his semi-comatose state, but slowly, surely he gifted you something infinitely more precious than any ring.
His trust.
You had been reading aloud, voice hushed in the dim light as you lay propped against his chest, snug in the crook of his shoulder as you turned page after page. His opposite arm had shifted up, though he was careful not to jostle you too much, and you were too engrossed in the story to truly realize what was in front of you.
It wasn’t until you paused at the end of a chapter did you realize his hood was lying in a puddle on his bare chest. Your sharp intake of breath had him pulling you closer, lips ghosting along your forehead as you kept your eyes glued to his collarbones. A large hand ghosted along your jaw, cupping it gently in an effort to tilt your face up.
“Schatz,” He whispered, breath fanning out warm across your skin. “Look at me. Please. ”
And you had.
You had nearly gotten drunk off of him, off his freckles and scars, off of his crow's feet and smile lines and his sharper-than-normal canines. His eyes, still smudged with blackout, were brimmed with nervous tears, his entire body had nearly been shaking with it.
“Beautiful.” You had whispered, unable to stop the way your fingertips traveled over every inch of his face, scraping gently along his stubble only to ghost up along his crooked nose. “Absolutely stunning.” You had shifted to sit on his hips, wasting no time in peppering his face with sloppy kisses.
“I love you.” His voice brings you back to the present and you glance down at him, slightly surprised to find him already looking up at you, eyes half-lidded and glossy. “I love you so much.” His arms are beginning to shake where they’re wrapped around your body and you hum softly.
“I love you most.” You whisper, drawing him slowly from the couch with gentle hands on his shoulders. You walk backward all the way to the bedroom, a soft hand along his jaw the entire way. You’re the first to crawl into bed, maneuvering across the blankets as König makes his way in. Even with a California King, he still dwarves it. You lean up against the headboard, making yourself comfortable before patting your chest invitingly. “Come here, baby.”
König knows exactly what that means and wastes no more time climbing onto the bed. He crawls up your body until he’s hovering above you, eyes shining in the dim light. He’s gentle when he settles himself between your legs, body heat soaking into your thin pajamas. König's deliberate when he hooks your legs over his back, eyes shining in nothing but pure adoration as he tries to get as close as possible to you.
Your hands return to his hair and you can’t help the way your lips curl up when he nearly purrs , going lax and sinking you both farther into the bed. It took a bit of coaxing, in the beginning, to get him to sleep in the same bed, let alone lay on you. Now, however, as you run a gentle hand down his spine, you find yourself perfectly content.
“I love you.” He repeats, voice muffled against your chest.
“I do believe you’ve said that already.” You hum, twisting a curl around your finger before letting it drop. “Though I won’t object to hearing you say it one more time.”
“I love you.” He lifts his head up and beams, teeth bared in a genuine smile. “I love you and I’ll never stop telling you that.”
You find yourself perfectly okay with that, and somehow, you think he does too.