Chapter 16
Sly
When we couldn’t pick a movie to watch, I half-jokingly suggested showing her some of my old videos instead.
It was the kind of idea that normally would’ve gotten a polite laugh or a no, but she immediately nodded, pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders, and told me to show her my most liked one.
I scrolled through my feed on her TV screen, suddenly aware of how much of me was in those videos, even if nobody ever saw my face.
Luckily, the one she asked for was, in fact, one of the funny ones.
Chaotic gameplay, dumb commentary, and a few near-death moments that had turned into running jokes in my community.
Within minutes, she was laughing, with her head thrown back in her neck, and her hands covering her mouth in the most adorable way.
I couldn’t stop watching her. She sat curled in the same spot on the couch, knees pulled up, arms wrapped around them under the blanket.
Her eyes stayed fixed on the screen, but I kept my eyes on her face instead.
Every shift in her expression, every small smile, every flicker of amusement made me want to memorize it.
Her smiles still carried a trace of sadness, but they were there.
And when she was with me, they were there more often. That mattered.
When my past self on the screen jumped and swore after a scare in some horror game, Sumner snorted and clamped a hand over her mouth, trying to hold it in. Her eyes slid to mine, bright with amusement, and I couldn’t help grinning back at her.
“You like seeing me get hurt or scared, huh?” I teased.
Her hand dropped, and she tilted her head, trying to hide a smirk behind pressed lips. “It’s funny. You’re funny. I get why so many people like watching you. And it’s…difficult, what you do.”
I raised an eyebrow. “How’s it difficult?”
She shifted, her voice soft but certain. “Nobody sees your face. You’re this expressive, you make people laugh, you keep them engaged without showing them the one thing most people rely on. That’s not easy.”
I blinked, caught off guard. I’d never really thought about it like that.
In my head, the helmet turned me into a character.
It made me anonymous, not quite real, like a voice in a video rather than a person.
I wanted it that way. But hearing her call it difficult and hearing her say it like I was more than a persona, hit differently.
She saw Sly, and not just a helmet-wearing, chaotic streamer.
I smiled gently. “I’m just being myself,” I said.
And sitting there next to her, watching her laugh at me while I tried to make sense of why her words meant so much, I realized I’d never wanted to be seen more than I did right then.
“And that’s a good thing,” she said, voice softer now. “And I have to say…”
She paused, and I lost track of anything else for a second. I watched her breathe in and out as she tried to steady herself. “I like having you around because of that. Because you don’t change. You’re true to yourself.”
Her words landed hard in my chest and warmed it instantly. I’d braced for so many reactions in the past, leading me never to want to open up to anyone, and hearing something so simple and honest felt almost dangerous, in a good way.
“Thank you,” I said finally. “That means more than you know.”
She squeezed her knees, looking so small under the blanket, and I felt the impulse to reach for her again. But I stopped myself and kept my hands on my knees.
I leaned back into the couch and stretched my legs out, feeling the weight of the day settle into my muscles. It was late, but I still wasn’t ready to leave. Not yet. I told myself it was her call. If she felt strong enough to be alone tonight, I’d go. If she didn’t, I’d stay.
“Sly?”
My head turned immediately at the sound of her voice. “Yeah, baby?”
Her cheeks flushed pink the second the word left my mouth. For a second, I almost regretted calling her that until I saw the way her lips curved slightly, like she hadn’t expected it but liked it.
The nickname threw her off. She stumbled over her words, rubbing her palms over her shins.
Fucking adorable.
“I, um…it’s late,” she said finally, eyes darting toward our phones on the coffee table before coming back to me. “Do you maybe want to stay the night?”
Yes.
Fuck yes.
A thousand times, yes.
Inside, my chest jumped with excitement like a kid. Outside, I forced myself to stay calm, to act like this wasn’t everything I wanted. I cleared my throat and tried to stay casual. “Sure. Whatever.”
Shit. No, you idiot!
“Whatever?” Her brows arched slightly, testing me.
“No—” I sat up straighter, eyes wide. “I mean, yes. Yes, I’d love to stay.” The words tumbled out. “I don’t even know why I act like a fucking idiot when you ask me things like that. Of course, I want to stay. It means a lot.”
Her laugh was soft but warm. She wasn’t judging me or taking this the wrong way. “You’re not an idiot,” she said, her voice teasing but kind. “You’re nervous.” She tilted her head. “I make you nervous.”
I let out a dry, short laugh and looked down at my hands, suddenly unable to meet her eyes even though hers were all I ever wanted to look at. She wasn’t wrong. She made me nervous in a way nobody else ever did, and I hadn’t figured out how to hide it.
“Yeah,” I admitted finally, forcing myself to meet her gaze. “You do make me nervous.”
The softness in her eyes when I said it loosened something tight in my chest. “But it’s a good kind of nervous.”
She smiled at that. “It’s the same for me,” she said quietly. “I think…I’m ready for a hug now.”
I moved carefully, not so fast it would startle her, but not so slow it would make her second-guess herself. I shifted closer, body angled toward hers, and opened my arms.
She dropped her legs from the couch, uncurling herself, and leaned in. Her arms came up around my neck as she settled against me. I wrapped my arms around her waist and pulled her closer until she was tucked against me. I held her there, letting her feel my weight without pressure.
Her body was warm against mine, and once she settled, she didn’t pull away.
I felt her breath against the side of my neck, and her hands fisted in my sweater again, like she was holding on to me for safety.
I kept my arms around her, gently rubbing her back, but not moving more than I had to.
I didn’t rush her, and the longer we stayed like that, the more I felt her relax in my arms.
Her shoulders eased, and her breathing slowed until it fell into rhythm with mine. Every now and then, she adjusted her grip around my neck, like she wanted to make sure I was still there. Each time she did, I pulled her in a little closer to remind her I wasn’t going anywhere.
The quiet in the room grew heavier, but not in a bad way. It wasn’t awkward or forced. It was just what she needed, and, deep down, what I needed too. I didn’t even notice the time anymore, but if it were up to me, we’d stay like this forever.
When she finally sighed against me, the tension in her body gave way. Her head tilted slightly, and I could feel the weight of her starting to lean on me more fully. I didn’t move, didn’t say anything. I just adjusted so she could be comfortable.
“I don’t want to let go yet,” she murmured, her voice so low I almost missed it.
“You don’t have to,” I said, keeping my voice quiet too.
That was enough. She didn’t answer again, and I didn’t expect her to. The silence stretched on, her breathing growing slower and heavier, until I realized she was falling asleep.
My own eyes started to burn with tiredness, but I didn’t want to shift her.
I leaned back into the couch, careful not to break the hold we had on each other, and eased us into a more comfortable position.
She curled in closer, her legs pulling up slightly as she nestled against me, and I draped one arm along her side to keep her there.
Eventually, my body gave in. The last thing I felt before I slipped under was her steady breathing against my chest and the warmth of her pressed into me.
I woke the next morning with sunlight on my face.
We must’ve shifted during the night because we were lying on the couch, her pressed against me, back to the cushions.
My arms were wrapped around her, holding her close, and her face was tucked into my chest. She was still asleep, breathing slow and even, and one hand was still curled tightly in the sleeve of my sweater, like she needed to make sure I wouldn’t leave.
I would never have left in the middle of the night. I didn’t even consider it. She had asked me to stay, and I did. I would do it again anytime she needed me.
My left arm was pinned beneath her neck, feeling just a little numb.
My other arm was wrapped around her waist, with my hand resting on her lower back.
The blanket had slipped down toward our feet, and even though she didn’t seem cold, I tugged it back up over her.
Her hair had fallen across her face, and I lifted a few strands to see her properly.
She looked calm, almost fragile, and I told myself to stay still and not wake her.
I’d hate myself if I disturbed her. Carefully, I cupped her cheek and ran my thumb along her cheekbone.
My eyes burned from sleep, but I didn’t want to close them.
I stayed there, watching her, memorizing every detail of her face.
Her stomach growled before her eyes opened, and I waited for her to look at me before I spoke.
“Good morning,” I whispered, my voice raspy.
She blinked a few times as her eyes adjusted to the light. When they finally met mine, I couldn’t stop a small grin. “Shit…I really wish I knew what green looked like.”
Half-asleep, she scrunched her nose and covered her hand with mine, pushing it over her eyes. I chuckled and let her have a moment. When she finally lowered both our hands, she covered her mouth with her hand and yawned.
“Maybe you should get one of those colorblind glasses,” she mumbled.
“There’s such a thing?” I asked, furrowing my brows.
She nodded, still half-drowsy, with her gaze soft. “I saw videos of people trying them. They’re pretty expensive, though.”
“Hm,” I said, considering it. The cost didn’t matter if it meant seeing her eyes the way they really were. I’d figure it out.
“You’re still here,” she said, her voice soft, pulling me out of my thoughts.
“Of course I am.” I cupped her cheek gently and leaned in, pressing a careful kiss to her forehead.
I didn’t think about asking first, and she didn’t flinch or pull away. Instead, she leaned into me, wrapping one leg around mine.
“Thank you,” she whispered, her eyes locked on mine.
“For what?”
“For showing me that sleeping can be something good.”
A flash of anger shot through me at the thought of all the nights she had gone without rest, living in fear. My jaw tightened instinctively.
Her hand came up, resting on my jaw. “Don’t. I don’t want you to be angry because of him. You’ve already done so much to get me away from him. I don’t want you worrying anymore. I’m safe because of you. Remember that.”
She was right.
Holding onto anger wouldn’t change the past. It still hurt, knowing how much she had endured, but I couldn’t let it control me now. The gentle smile tugging at her lips broke through the tension in my chest.
“We should go get breakfast. I’m hungry,” she suggested.
“Good.” I returned her smile and brushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “I know a good spot.”