Between the pages

Chapter 17 In the quiet moments

The room was quiet, save for the faint rustling of Lucine as he settled on the couch beside you. Giyu had fallen asleep, his face softening with the kind of peace that seemed rare for him. You remained seated next to him, your back resting against the arm of the couch, watching him breathe in and out steadily, trying to soak in the rare moment where there were no words between you. Just the shared presence of each other.

Outside the window, the moonlight painted the room in soft silver hues, the only light that illuminated the space besides the low warmth of the lamp on the desk. The night had stretched long, but the comfort of having him nearby—of knowing he was there and safe—helped ease the heavy weight on your heart.

Lucine shifted again, nudging closer to Giyu's side, his small head resting on the arm of the couch. You smiled softly, your eyes flicking back to Giyu, who lay there, vulnerable, yet unguarded in his sleep. The rarely seen, tender side of him had always been something that caught you by surprise. You'd grown used to his quiet demeanor, his walls so carefully constructed over the years. But tonight? Tonight, he was just a man—just someone who needed to rest after everything.

Your thoughts wandered back to the events of the day. The quiet moments shared. The worries, the unspoken fears, and the quiet comfort you tried to offer him. You couldn't help but wonder what he was thinking. What thoughts passed behind his guarded eyes? Had you truly reached him, or was there still more to unravel beneath the surface?

You didn't want to disturb his rest, so instead, you quietly moved off the couch, feeling the stiffness of your own body as you stretched. Lucine gave a soft mewl as you moved, but he didn't wake. You walked to the desk, your fingers grazing the edges of the pages of the second book as you pondered where to go next. Your eyes lingered over the pages, at the blood-stained marks that had become a constant, the red petals of roses now almost a part of you, intertwined with your every word—just like how these pages held tales of everyday moments.

You grabbed your pen, twirling it absently in your fingers, but before you could write, you heard the soft rustling behind you. Giyu was stirring in his sleep, and for a moment, you thought he might wake. Instead, he just shifted slightly, reaching out as if searching for something. You couldn't help but smile to yourself, the quiet vulnerability of him in his sleep a stark contrast to the person you knew when he was awake.

Your gaze drifted toward the guitar resting against the wall. It had always been a connection—a way to speak when words were too difficult to find. The melody that carried your shared emotions, your memories, and the spaces in between. You couldn't help but reach for it, your fingers grazing the strings before you pulled it into your lap.

The gentle sound of the strings beneath your fingertips brought you back to a memory. Giyu had once sung a verse to you, a song that had stayed with you ever since. The melody had been soft, almost too soft, and the words lingered in your mind.

"I met somebody, carefree and kind,
Carries a smile even when she isn't fine,
She can be hurting, but she's got enough light to fill up every night.
I met somebody, stays up all night,
I see the worry that she hides all the time.
I met somebody, lost in the pages, where she feels more right."

But tonight, as you sat there with the guitar in your hands, your mind couldn't help but linger on Giyu—on the quiet comfort he carried so effortlessly, the way he was able to brighten your day even by just simple moments of being with you. He never needed to say anything to tell you he was there; everything was reflected in his actions.

There was a secret you held, though... just like you knew he could, you often could read him like a book. Beneath that calm and composed exterior, you could see the subtle shifts—the way his eyes would slightly soften when something touched him, the way his posture would shift when he was thinking deeply, the way his silence sometimes spoke louder than words ever could.

"I met somebody, quiet and strong,
Carries the weight of the world, but tries to hold on.
He may be hurting, but his silence speaks louder than any other word.
I met somebody, he hides in the dark,
I see the battle that he fights in his heart.
I met somebody, lost in the moments, where he feels more right."

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You returned to the couch, sitting beside him this time, resting your head against the armrest, just watching him. You didn't need words—not when his mere presence filled the room with a warmth that made everything else fade into the background. The soft rise and fall of his chest was all that mattered for now.

Minutes passed, the stillness between you two stretching on. Yet, in that quiet, you felt a closeness that words couldn't explain. The comfort of being here, of knowing that no matter how uncertain everything felt, you had this moment. You had this time together.

And maybe that was all you could ever really ask for.

You glanced down at Lucine, who had finally found a comfortable position on Giyu's lap, his small paws twitching as he dreamed. You chuckled quietly, running your fingers gently through Giyu's hair, the action bringing you some sense of calm you hadn't expected.

The clock ticked on in the background, marking the time, but it didn't matter. Time had a funny way of blurring when you were with someone who made everything feel okay.