Tilly smiled, small and real. “Always.”
Savannah settled back against them, the blanket warm around her shoulders, and let herself believe that staying was a choice they were both making.
Tilly shifted again, then paused, like a thought had finally settled.
“Hang on,” they said quietly.
Savannah watched them, still half-curled under the blankets, as Tilly glanced down at themselves and let out a small, self-aware huff. “I can’t get comfortable like this.”
Before Savannah could overthink what that meant, Tilly leaned back and hooked their thumbs into the waistband of their pants, pushing them down and stepping out of them without ceremony. No lingering. No performance. Just the simple act of getting them out of the way.
They kicked the pants aside and climbed back onto the bed, sliding under the covers beside her.
“There,” they said softly. “That’s better.”
Something in Savannah’s chest loosened.
The imbalance she hadn’t quite known how to name eased, the bed suddenly feeling more even, more shared. Less like she was exposed while Tilly hovered half in and half out.
Tilly tugged the blanket higher as they settled, making sure Savannah was covered before finding their place beside her.
“Okay,” they said gently. “Now I’m actually listening.”
That pulled a quiet laugh from Savannah, surprised and breathy. “You weren’t before?”
“I was trying,” Tilly said, smiling. “The pants were distracting.”
Savannah smiled back, the tension in her shoulders finally ebbing as she shifted a little closer without stopping herself.
They lay there for a moment, facing each other, the quiet no longer sharp. Just open.
Savannah’s fingers returned to the edge of the blanket, calmer now. “Is it okay if I don’t know what I need yet?”
Tilly nodded without hesitation. “Yeah. We’ve got time.”
Savannah let herself believe them.
They lay there for a moment, the quiet settling in again.
Savannah stared at the ceiling, the blanket warm around her shoulders, and felt something tight in her chest she hadn’t been able to name until now. It wasn’t fear. It wasn’t confusion.
It was the strange, aching weight of being okay when she’d been braced for something else.
Her eyes burned before she realized she was close to crying.
She swallowed, embarrassed by the suddenness of it, and wiped at her face with the back of her hand. “Sorry,” she said quietly. “I’m not—” She stopped herself. “I don’t know why that’s happening.”
Tilly turned toward her fully this time. Not rushing. Just present. “You don’t have to know,” they said.
Savannah nodded, blinking hard. A tear slipped free anyway, trailing toward her temple. She laughed under her breath, shaky. “I feel ridiculous.”
“You don’t look ridiculous,” Tilly said. “You’re okay.”
That made her chest tighten more, not less.
She hesitated, fingers twisting into the blanket again. Asking felt vulnerable in a way she wasn’t used to, but the wanting was there, steady and undeniable.
“Can I ask you something else?” she said.
