𝗪𝗵𝗶𝘁𝗲 𝗧𝗶𝗴𝗲𝗿 [ʀᴡʙʏ x ᴍᴀʟᴇ ᴏᴄ]

Chapter 57

Klaus POV

The first thing I noticed was the faint morning light bleeding in through the window. The second was the soft pressure on my chest — warm, gentle, unmoving.

I blinked slowly, still half-lost in the haze of sleep. My arms were pinned slightly, something — no, someone — anchoring me to the mattress like a very stubborn blanket.

I glanced down and there she was.

Weiss.

Curled into me, her head resting right over my heart, one arm slung tightly around my torso as if her body refused to believe it was morning. Her silver-white hair was a little messy now, strands brushing my chin and cheek. I felt the way she exhaled, her breath cool against my skin.

She wasn't letting me go.

Klaus (softly, smiling):
"You're not gonna let me get up, huh?"

Weiss only burrowed in deeper, her hold tightening like a sleepy kitten refusing to be disturbed.

I chuckled under my breath, letting my hand drift up to stroke her back lightly through the blanket.

Klaus (quietly):
"Alright, alright. Five more minutes... maybe ten."

I felt her stir — just a subtle shift of weight, the faint rustle of the sheets. Then the warmth of her lips brushed my cheek, gentle and lingering.

I turned my head slightly, catching her still half-asleep, eyes barely open, silver lashes fluttering.

Klaus (softly):
"Well, good morning to you too."

She gave me the tiniest, sleepy smile. Her voice was quiet, husky from just waking up.

Weiss (mumbling):
"Morning... didn't mean to fall asleep on you."

I let my fingers tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

It's been a full night since we took shelter here at Brunswick Farms. The fire had long since dimmed to embers, and the silence in the house had a strange weight to it—too still, too cold despite the warmth around us.

I stretched, slowly sitting up from the makeshift bed on the couch. Weiss had already moved, gone to rejoin the others maybe, or just needed space. But me?

I felt... off.

Not tired. Not sore. Just... numb.

Like my limbs were moving out of memory, not intention. Like my chest should be full of some emotion—something, anything—but it was quiet. Too quiet. My thoughts came slow, sluggish. And worse, I didn't care that they did.

I rubbed at my arms, trying to shake the feeling, but it clung to me like frost.

I looked toward the hallway where I last saw Weiss disappear. A dull unease tugged at the back of my mind, but even that didn't feel sharp enough. It was like my emotions were dulled, like my instincts were being muffled through a thick fog.

The cold air outside did little to shake the fog clouding my head, but at least it was... fresher than inside. Weiss was finishing up welding some broken trailer piece to Bumblebee's rear, Myrtenaster glowing dimly as sparks flared and faded. Everyone was sluggish—Blake and Oscar barely looked awake, sitting on the porch like they hadn't slept at all. Their eyes looked hazy. Blank. Even Weiss, as sharp and focused as she usually was, moved like her limbs were heavier than they should be.

I rubbed my own eyes again, but the numbness hadn't left.

Oscar mumbled, "Can we just go back to bed?"