Breathe

Mila pats the space beside her. "Want me to sing you to sleep?" A soft, choked sound escapes him, half a laugh, half something else entirely.

Julian shakes his head slowly, but he moves, sitting on the edge of the mattress. The bed dips under his weight. He doesn't lie down, just turns to look at her, his profile outlined by the sliver of light under the door. "You used to sing to me all the time. Didn't matter where we were."

He's quiet for a long moment, just breathing in the shared silence. Then, he shifts, turning his body to face her more fully, one knee drawn up on the bed.
"Sing somethin' for me, Mila." It's not a demand. It's a plea, stripped bare. "Just... somethin' soft."

The melody is low and gentle, an old lullaby Mila hasn't hummed in years. It fills the quiet room, a fragile thread connecting the past to this fragile present. Julian's shoulders, which were rigid with tension, seem to slump slightly. He lets out a long, slow breath, his eyes closing. His voice is barely a whisper, thick with emotion. "Yeah. Like that."