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You turned the page of your book with utmost delicacy, your fingertips gliding over the crisp, ivory paper as though it were something sacred. Each movement was slow, intentional, almost reverent — not because the book demanded such care, but because the sleeping angel sprawled across your chest certainly did. Abel lay blissfully atop you, his weight warm and grounding, his breath a soft, rhythmic whisper against your ribs. His serene face, framed by tousled blonde curls that shimmered faintly in the gentle light filtering through the curtains, bore the unmistakable exhaustion of someone who had endured far too much in far too little time. The curls themselves seemed to dance with every faint breeze that slipped into the room, catching the sunlight like strands of spun gold. He looked peaceful — impossibly peaceful — for someone who had survived the chaos of Hell, the pandemonium of the Exorcists, and the unexpected whirlwind that was Princess Charlie Morningstar. You let your gaze linger on him, your heart swelling with affection as you watched the gentle rise and fall of his chest. His long lashes brushed delicately against his cheeks with each soft breath, fluttering ever so slightly as he stirred, as though he were dreaming of something fragile and fleeting.
Then, without warning, a rush of anxiety washed over you. It hit like a cold wave, sharp and sudden. You froze, breath catching in your throat, acutely aware of how vulnerable he looked in that moment — a delicate flower blooming in the centre of a battlefield. You knew you hadn’t done anything to disturb him, yet the fear of breaking this rare moment of tranquillity clawed at your chest. But Abel merely shifted, letting out a soft, sleepy sigh as he burrowed deeper into your side, instinctively seeking the comfort your presence provided. The warmth radiating from his body seeped into you, soothing the tension in your muscles. Slowly, your panic ebbed away, replaced by a gentle calm that wrapped around you both like a soft, protective cocoon.
Your hand drifted upward almost on instinct, your fingers weaving through his soft curls. The strands slipped through your fingertips like silk, impossibly smooth and warm. The tips of your blunt nails grazed his scalp just enough to coax a low, contented purr from him — a sound so soft and intimate that it seemed to vibrate through the quiet room itself.
“Mmm… that feels nice…” Abel sighed, his voice thick with sleep. He shifted slightly, his lips curling into the faintest smile — small, barely noticeable, but unmistakably genuine.
With each slow stroke of your fingers, he melted further into you, his body relaxing until he seemed to be on the verge of dissolving entirely. A playful smirk tugged at your lips at the thought of him turning into an “Abel puddle” if you kept this up. You could already picture Lute’s bewildered stare and Sera’s unimpressed, arms-crossed judgment if they walked in on such a scene. The mental image was so vivid that a soft chuckle escaped you before you could stop it — though you quickly stifled the sound, unwilling to disturb the fragile serenity you’d worked so hard to maintain.
“Hey, keep it down,” he murmured, a playful frown forming as one eye cracked open. His voice was thick with sleep, but the teasing edge was unmistakable. “Your laughter might wake the monsters.”
You giggled quietly, brushing a stray curl from his forehead. “Oh, please. The monsters are far less intimidating than you, my brave little warrior.” The moment felt delicate — too delicate — as though the entire room were suspended by a single invisible thread. And then, as if summoned by fate itself, the door to your room burst open with all the subtlety of a hurricane. Emily barreled inside, her energy filling the space instantly, followed closely by Princess Charlie, whose enthusiasm was as unpredictable as it was infectious. Their voices collided with the stillness, shattering it like glass.
“Guess what!” Emily exclaimed, practically vibrating with excitement. “We found something amazing!”
“Ngh… babe, what’s going on?” Abel mumbled, his eyes barely cracking open as he looked up at you. Grogginess clung to him like a stubborn fog, though curiosity flickered faintly beneath it. “Can’t a guy get a moment of peace with his boyfriend?”
You couldn’t help the smile that bloomed across your face as you gazed down at him. The soft rays filtering through the curtains cast gentle shadows along his features, highlighting the boyish charm that peeked through even in his most exhausted moments. “Just a little chaos,” you murmured soothingly. “I promise it won’t take long. Go back to sleep, love.” Instinctively, you wrapped your arms around him tighter, cradling him as though he were something precious — something fragile — something you refused to let the world harm. He relaxed into your hold, though annoyance still flickered faintly across his face. Behind you, Emily and Charlie exchanged nervous glances, shrinking back slightly under the sharp glare you shot their way. “Can’t you see we were having a moment?” you said, narrowing your eyes. “Some peace and quiet would be appreciated.” “Uh-oh,” Charlie teased, raising her hands in surrender. “Looks like we’ve interrupted something.” Abel let out a groggy huff. “You two always have impeccable timing.” You pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your lips. The gesture stirred something deep within you — something tender, protective, and impossibly strong. “I’ll be back, my dear,” you whispered. “Don’t worry. Just close your eyes and go back to sleep.”
He blinked slowly, fighting the pull of exhaustion. “Promise you won’t be long…” “Promise,” you whispered, brushing your thumb across his cheek before reluctantly pulling away. As you stepped toward the door, Abel let out a quiet huff. “You could at least bring me a snack or something when you come back!” “Only if you promise to stay awake,” you shot back playfully. “Fine! I’ll wait!” he called after you — though the moment you crossed the threshold, he slumped back against the pillows, eyelids drooping.
Left alone in the dimly lit room, Abel curled into himself, drawing his knees to his chest. His magnificent wings unfurled around him, golden feathers shimmering faintly as they wrapped him in a protective cocoon. Yet even within that sanctuary, a storm churned inside him — a storm of longing, doubt, and emotions he didn’t fully understand. “Why do I feel like this?” he muttered, dragging a hand through his hair. “Am I really that helpless without him?” He knew how irrational it sounded. A part of him scolded him for clinging so desperately, for letting his emotions spiral so wildly. But rational thought slipped through his fingers like sand. You had become his anchor — the one steady point in a world that had been ripped apart since Adam’s death. With Adam gone, the mantle of leadership had fallen onto Abel’s shoulders, heavy and suffocating. He was now the head of the Exorcist army, a role he had never wanted, never asked for, and certainly never felt prepared to bear. And yet… you made it bearable. You were the only flicker of peace in the chaos. “Damn it, Abel,” he muttered, staring up at the ceiling. “Get a grip.” But the shadows dancing along the walls only echoed the turmoil in his heart. No matter how he tried to steady himself, his thoughts drifted back to you — your warmth, your voice, your presence. You were the one thing he couldn’t push away.
He didn’t know how long he lay there, trapped in the haze between wakefulness and sleep, until the quiet creak of the door pulled him back. You stepped inside softly, your presence filling the room like warm light. Abel had instinctively wrapped himself in his wings, shielding himself from the world. With a gentle smile, you approached and carefully peeled the feathers back, revealing his peaceful — yet troubled — sleeping face. “Guess who’s back?” you whispered, setting the snack you grabbed him — a small bag of edible cookie dough — on the nightstand.
Before you could say anything more, Abel reached for you in a sleepy, instinctive motion, pulling you into his arms and wrapping his wings around you both. The warmth of him enveloped you instantly, familiar and comforting. “Much better,” he murmured against your shirt. “I thought you’d never come back.” “And leave you alone in a world of monsters? Never,” you replied, snuggling closer. “You’re stuck with me.” “Always,” he breathed, finally letting himself drift into sleep — safe in the knowledge that you were there, and that the shadows didn’t stand a chance.