The night was silent, save for the faint ticking of the clock on Lumineâs desk. The moonlight filtered through the window, casting a silvery glow over the room. Lumine was sound asleep in her bed, her breathing soft and even. At the foot of her bed, curled in a nest of blankets, Scaramoucheâback in his human formâsat with his knees pulled to his chest.
His indigo hair fell messily over his eyes as he stared blankly at the floor. His chest felt tight, and his hands trembled slightly as he clutched the edge of the blanket.
He had woken up moments ago, his breathing erratic, his heart hammering painfully in his chest. The dreamâthe nightmareâhad felt so real, so vivid, that even now, in the safety of Lumine's room, he couldnât shake it.
In his nightmare, Lumine had walked past him.
The cardboard box had sagged under the weight of the rain. The shadows had swallowed him whole. His tiny, trembling form had stayed frozen in the cold, his fragile breaths growing shallower with each passing moment.
And Lumine had walked past.
No warm arms had scooped him up. No golden eyes had locked onto his with gentle concern.
She never stopped.
He had been left thereâin the rain, in the cold, in the darkâutterly alone.
A soft whimper escaped his lips as he buried his face against his knees. His body shuddered slightly, and he clenched his fists tightly, his nails digging into his palms.
âScaramouche?â
Lumineâs sleepy voice broke through the heavy silence, soft but laced with concern. She sat up, rubbing her eyes before her gaze settled on him. Even in the dim light, she could see the way his shoulders were trembling.
She pushed back her blankets and crawled over to him, her voice gentle. âHey⦠are you okay? Did something happen?â
Scaramouche flinched slightly at her voice but didnât respond. Lumine frowned and placed a hand lightly on his shoulder. He froze under her touch for a moment before finally looking up at her.
His indigo eyes glistened faintly in the moonlight, filled with something fragileâsomething raw.
â...You couldâve walked past me,â he whispered, his voice trembling.
Lumine blinked, confused. âWhat do you mean?â
Scaramoucheâs lips parted slightly, but it took him a moment to find his words. âThat night⦠the alley⦠you couldâve walked past me. You couldâve ignored me. If you hadnât stoppedâif you hadnât picked me upâI wouldnât be here.â
His voice cracked on the last word, and Lumine felt her chest tighten at the vulnerability in his expression. She had never seen him like thisâso small, so fragile.
Without hesitation, she reached out and pulled him into a gentle embrace. Scaramouche stiffened at first, but slowly, he allowed himself to lean into her warmth. His head rested against her shoulder, and his arms tentatively wrapped around her waist.
âYouâre here now,â Lumine said softly, her voice steady and reassuring. âI did stop. I did pick you up. And Iâm glad I did, Scaramouche. Iâm so glad youâre here.â
His grip on her waist tightened slightly as if afraid she might disappear if he let go. His face remained buried against her shoulder, but she could feel his steady breaths against her neck.
For a long while, neither of them spoke. The room was quiet, save for the faint patter of rain against the windowâa soft echo of that fateful night.
Eventually, Scaramoucheâs voice broke the silence, muffled against her shoulder. âI⦠I donât know what Iâd do if you werenât here, Lumine.â
She smiled softly, her hand brushing through his indigo hair. âWell, you donât have to worry about that. Iâm here, and Iâm not going anywhere.â
They stayed like that for what felt like an eternityâwrapped in each otherâs warmth, the fragile vulnerability slowly giving way to a quiet sense of comfort.
Lumine eventually leaned back slightly, her golden eyes meeting his indigo ones. âDo you want to sleep here tonight?â she asked softly.
Scaramouche hesitated but nodded silently. Lumine smiled, pulling the blanket over both of them as they settled back against the pillows. Scaramouche rested his head against her shoulder, his arms still loosely wrapped around her waist.
The nightmare still lingered faintly at the edges of his mind, but it felt distant nowâfading like shadows chased away by the light of dawn.
For now, he was warm. He was safe. And most importantly, Lumine was here.
And that was enough.
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