Jora couldn't help but feel a soft smile tug at her lips when Sage patted the bed next to him. There was something about his easy confidence, the way he seemed to shrug off the weight of whatever was going on around them. He was always like that, wasn’t he? A little too cocky for his own good, but somehow it didn’t feel obnoxious coming from him. And that smile—always so damn infectious.

She let out a quiet laugh when he mentioned her liking him for some unspoken reason, feeling the warmth spread through her chest as she settled in beside him. It was strange, this pull she couldn’t quite place, but it was there, undeniable. He was too… real, maybe? Too unashamed of who he was. Maybe that’s why she stuck around, even when things were rough. He didn’t need her to be anything other than what she was.

“You’re lucky I like you,” she murmured, her voice tired but affectionate as she settled into the bed, careful to not crowd him too much. He’d probably still complain about her getting too close, but she knew he was never *really* bothered. Not by her, anyway.

At the mention of him being weak, she could hear the frustration in his voice, even though he tried to hide it. "You’ve been through a lot, Sage," she said quietly, her fingers brushing against his arm as if to comfort him without saying too much. "You deserve a break."

But that didn’t stop her from letting out a small, exasperated sigh when he insisted he’d been resting enough. She knew him too well. Always pushing himself, even when he shouldn’t. “Don’t make me knock you out myself,” she muttered, mostly to herself, before settling back down and letting the steady rhythm of his breathing ease her own.

She could feel the weight of his head shift on her shoulder, and she barely moved, not wanting to disturb him. There was a strange sort of peace in the way he fit against her, even if she didn’t fully understand it. Maybe she never would.

But for now, it was enough. She shut her eyes, letting the quiet fill the space between them, and tried not to think about how much she liked having him this close.

Jora didn’t respond immediately to Sage’s grin, but she couldn’t suppress the faint smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. "We'll see if you like me so much after being stuck down here with me for a week," he'd said. His tone was light, teasing, but she caught the undercurrent of doubt in his voice. *Would I get bored? Would I get tired of him?*

Honestly, she didn’t know. But something about that idea—about being stuck with him—didn't bother her as much as it should’ve. They’d only been together for a short time, but it felt… right. She wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was the way he never asked for her help, but still seemed to trust her when she offered it. Maybe it was that stupid crooked grin he flashed her, like he knew exactly how to get under her skin and *knew* she’d never mind. Or maybe it was because, out of everyone, she was the only one who could actually stand him. Or at least, the only one who seemed to want to.

"Yeah, we’ll see," she muttered, half to herself. *I’ve survived worse,* she thought, brushing the thought aside as quickly as it came. She hadn’t always been the kind of person who lingered on doubts.

He sighed, still looking half-amused but more than a little tired. She could see it in the slackness of his shoulders, the way his eyelids drooped. She wondered, for a second, if she was the only one who noticed how exhausted he was, or if he was hiding it from everyone else, too. The thought made her stomach twist in a way she didn't like, so she shoved it down.

When he sighed again, “Maybe, but that doesn’t mean I like it,” she raised an eyebrow at him. The playful look in his eyes was still there, but it wasn’t as sharp as before, not quite as biting. “Mmm, tempting isn’t it?” He shot back, half-joking, half-serious.

A flicker of something darker crossed her expression, but she didn’t let it linger. "Tempting," she agreed with a soft laugh, rolling her eyes at him, but his joke—such as it was—didn't quite land. His words weren’t just some bad joke about being knocked out. They weren’t just sarcasm. There was something beneath that mask, something too real, too raw. She didn’t like it. Didn’t like that she could see that *other* side of him, the one that knew all too well how quickly things could go wrong.

But she wasn’t the one to back away from it. She never had been.

“I’d rather knock you out than kill you,” she shot back, her tone light, though there was a cold edge to her voice. He was right. He *was* lucky she liked him. Lucky she was there at all. It wasn’t a matter of choice, not really. It was just how things had happened, how they’d found each other in the mess. No sense in pretending she didn't have her own reasons.

Jora watched him, the way his body seemed to relax again, the way he drifted off into sleep like he hadn’t been drifting in and out of consciousness for days now. Something about seeing him like that made her chest tighten. He was… softer when he slept. Maybe even… vulnerable.

For a long moment, she just watched him, the quiet of the room settling around them like a thick blanket. Her fingers twitched, itching to reach for him, to smooth the dark hair from his forehead, but she didn’t. She didn’t need to. He was there. And maybe that was enough.

Curling up against him, she felt a small sense of peace, a warmth that pushed away the constant tension that had become her baseline. She wasn’t sure how long it would last. How long *they* would last. But for now… she let herself believe that this—*this*—was enough.

*Even if he did have a stupid grin.*

Jora felt the warmth of his body shift beside her, the subtle movements that told her he was awake. She didn’t open her eyes right away, instead just letting the quiet linger between them. His drowsy smile was enough to pull a small one of her own from the corners of her mouth. She could feel him moving closer, curling into her shoulder as if it was the most natural thing in the world, and maybe it was.

She didn’t mind it—never had, really. The way he fit against her, the way his presence made the space between them feel safe. Sage had always had a way of making her feel like everything would be alright, even when she knew it probably wouldn’t be. There was something comforting in the way he let her care for him, and even more so in the way he cared for her in return, even if it wasn’t always in the loud, obvious ways. It was the small things—checking on her, the way his gaze would soften when he thought she wasn’t looking, the way he still managed to crack jokes to make her smile even when she felt like everything around them was falling apart.

He was thinner than she liked, but Jora didn't push it. He didn’t make her feel like she needed to protect him, but she couldn't help it. She couldn't stop herself from wanting to take care of him, even when he told her he was fine. The way he looked after her, though, made it easier to let him in, to trust that maybe, just maybe, they could keep each other together for as long as they needed.

She shifted slightly, brushing a lock of his hair back from his forehead before leaning her head against his for a moment. "You know," she murmured softly, voice still thick with sleep, "you make everything feel a little less heavy."

Jora’s eyes fluttered open, the soft, steady rhythm of Sage’s breathing grounding her as she slowly became aware of the warmth that had enveloped her. She hadn’t realized he was still half asleep, but she could feel the rise and fall of his chest, the way his body curled slightly against hers in that space where they could both just exist in quiet comfort. For a moment, she let herself breathe in the stillness, the subtle peace of it all.

She shifted ever so slightly, careful not to disturb him too much, but as she did, he stirred, his sleepy gaze meeting hers. There was something undeniably endearing about how he looked at her—still weary but somehow content in the moment, that faint smile on his lips. She couldn’t help the soft smile that crept onto her own face.

"Feeling better?" she asked gently, even though she already knew the answer. He looked... better. Not perfect, but better. It was enough to make her feel a little lighter herself, the weight of his illness not as heavy in the air. When she reached to move his hair from his face, her fingers lingered for just a heartbeat longer than necessary, brushing against his skin, enjoying the soft warmth there.

His words took her by surprise, though, the quiet sincerity in them catching her off guard. She blinked at him, a soft blush creeping onto her cheeks, but there was a tenderness in his gaze that made her heart skip a beat.

"You—" Her voice caught for a moment, unsure whether to laugh or soften under the weight of his words. "Well, I can't argue with that, can I?" she said, her tone light and teasing, but the warmth in her eyes betrayed how much his words meant. He had a way of making her feel... seen.

Then, at his second comment, a genuine laugh bubbled up from her chest, and she playfully rolled her eyes. "A comfortable pillow, huh?" she said with a soft, teasing grin. "I guess I can live with that." She shifted just slightly, enough to make herself more at ease, but still, she didn’t want to pull away—not when he was so close, not when he was still clearly needing her presence to feel a little more grounded.

"I’ll take that as a compliment," she added, her voice softer now. “But next time you need a pillow, just say the word." There was a warmth to her tone, a mix of affection and something deeper—something she wasn’t ready to name yet but didn’t mind feeling. Not with him. Not now.

Jora smiled softly as Sage’s words lingered in the quiet air. She could tell he was still waking up, and part of her liked that—liked the way his grogginess didn’t seem to be something he wanted to hide. Not with her. She couldn't help but feel grateful for that, for the way he let his guard down, even if it was just a little. The easy, slow rhythm of the moment was enough to soothe the ache in her chest.

“Yeah, I feel a lot better,” she murmured, her voice still a little rough from sleep. Her eyes met his, and she felt that warmth in her chest again—the one that always seemed to rise when he was near, like a quiet, constant pull. He was right, she *was* feeling better. The rest had done wonders, and maybe even more than just the sleep. Maybe it was the comfort of knowing he was there, that even in the haze of whatever this was between them, they still had each other. And that was...enough, for now.

She shifted slightly, her hand brushing the edge of the pillow he’d mentioned, but she didn’t quite move it, not wanting to break the moment just yet. “And you’re not so bad yourself,” she teased softly, though it was more of an observation than a joke. There was something about his smile, even in its groggy, sleepy state, that made her feel...safe. That made her feel like, for once, maybe she didn’t have to question everything.

Her eyes lingered on his, the comfort of his presence settling over her like the warmth of the sunlight just beginning to filter through the curtains. She wasn’t sure what to call them either—not friends, not quite that anymore. Something more, but not quite *that* either. And yet... she was okay with not knowing. For once, she was okay with it.

“Guess we’ll figure it out, huh?” she said with a small, almost hesitant smile, her fingers tracing a pattern on the pillow between them. “Or maybe we don’t have to.”

Her heart gave a little flutter at the thought. Maybe it didn’t need a name. Not everything did.