The first night he stayed in her bed was the first time she realised she might actually need him. Not a single night had passed when she hadn't woken in tears, her cheeks wet against the pillow as the dim pallor of her old childhood night light chased away the shadows of her dreams. Sometimes she would see his silhouette in the doorway, obviously having brought him to her with her cries, but there were times when she would softly tread down the stairs, blanket wrapped around her shoulders, tugging them closer as she leant in the doorway and watched him sleep, the hard lines of his face relaxed and peaceful as he breathed. She would think of just how lucky she should feel that she hadn't had to go through all this alone. He didn't have to come back, he certainly didn't have to stay.
And when she had woken that night, with rain and thunder rending the air around her, she had slipped from her sheets, slow and careful footsteps on the stairs, her movements practiced and unhurried as she made her way through the darkened house, the brief flashes of light that tore up the sky casting an icy illumination. She wasn't surprised that he was awake, the noise of the storm and the muggy air made for an uncomfortable night. He looked up at her with a weighted stare, glass of wine halfway to his lips as his eyes travelled the length of her, lingering briefly on the skin of her shoulder, exposed and pale in the cold moonlight, her oversized sweatshirt slipping down her arm. For a moment she itched to pull it up, but the warmth of his eyes on her made her feel human.
She stood immobile for a while, simply looking at him, forcing herself not to chew on her nails as the air between them seemed to grow thick, her breathing hitching as he drained the rest of the glass, placing it with a purposeful air on the low table in front of him. He stood with a grace she didn't know he possessed, turning to face her in the dark, his eyes dark as he waited her out, watching her carefully, because it could only ever be her decision.
She left the doorway, her hands twisting together in front of her chest as she held his gaze, the wooden floor warm beneath her feet as she slowly closed the distance between them, something electric crackling in her veins at the feel of the heat washing from him as she stood before him and she became so very aware that they had never really spoken.
With her lip between her teeth she took his hand, holding it with a trembling uncertainty in hers as she raised her eyes to meet his, to become the focus of his stare, so dark in the shadow of the night that she had to search for the faintest glimmer of light, for any sign of what he might be thinking. But he had always been something of a closed book to her.
He didn't hesitate when she tugged lightly on his hand, turning back towards the stairs and the long slow path that led them to her room.
He said nothing as she slowly pulled off the careworn jumper, tossing it lightly to the floor, her chin raised in an aspect of defiance, although against what she couldn't say. She could feel the tremor in her legs as she stared at him, her entire body aching for him to make his move, and for a moment she felt a crippling self doubt, a vulnerability that made her shiver and quake under his stare, lowering her eyes lest he see their sudden brightness, the shine of tears that had sprung unbidden in the wake of a nervousness she shouldn't feel around him.
His hands were warm around her waist, his arms strong as he held her, his sudden embrace feeling like a drugged relief in her veins as his fingers wove into her hair, holding her close to his chest, the beat of his heart a blessed affirmation of life. She felt herself choke, leaning against him, finally giving in and letting herself go. He picked her up with a gentle elegance, his hold on her tight even as he lay her down, pulling the blankets over them both as she clutched at his chest, her silent tears racking her body as she buried herself further into his arms, tucking her head beneath his chin and shivering at the feel of his breath against her neck.
"Dustfinger." She whispered his name, quiet in the dark, like a spell or a prayer, a desperate plea for affirmation.
He drew his fingers through her hair, brushing his hand across her cheek and wiping away her tears, his gaze unfocused as he held on to the longing of her hands on him. "I'm here."