A distinct knock on the door wakes you, the same unhurried rhythm he always uses, just as you're drifting back to sleep. The sound jolts you upright so abruptly your palms slap against the mattress to steady yourself. For a second, your heart pounds, eyes wide in the dim light. Then you narrow your eyes at the door.

Wearing only a light blue T-shirt that reaches your upper thighs and underwear, you stumble to the door. “I swear to God—Siddhartha. I just fell back asleep.”

You open the door. His eye scans you for just a second before gently pushing you back into the room. He follows, closing the door behind him. “Do you always open the door like that?” He nods at your clothes, or rather, the lack of them on your legs.

“Buddha, I knew it was you.”

He sighs. Maybe, but the first time you answered like that, you didn't know it was him. Then again, the shirt was longer.

“What are you doing here?”

“I need to speak to you about your father.” Buddha nods towards the fact that you’re in Shiva’s room. “Preferably at my home.”

You turn your back to him and head toward the closet for a shirt and shorts. “I spoke to him yesterday. The only thing I got from him is that my mom is human and I look like her—he also pointed out that biological mother is the correct term to refer to her since she didn’t raise me. Kind of weird, but I guess it’s true.”

As you speak, you pull your shirt over your head, grab a bra, fasten it, and slip into your clothes. It’s quick and practical, but you’re aware of him behind you in a way you aren’t with Shiva.

When you turn back to face Buddha, he’s staring at you.

Not amused. Not flustered.

Just watching.

His eye traces over you once—checking, assessing—before settling on your face, something tense lingering there that wasn’t before.

“Are you okay?”

He blinks as if pulled from somewhere else. The tension quickly dissipates, replaced by a broad grin revealing all four sharp teeth.

“Of course I am, honeybee.” He steps back, now casual—almost too casual. “Let’s go home. I learned something interesting about your father.”

Home—his home.

His pace is faster than usual, and he doesn’t slow down when your eyes wander over the garden or the rooms you’ve barely had time to explore. You’re not even sure if he notices. His grip on your left hand is not painful, but it’s firm—fingers intertwined with yours in a way that feels more grounding than affectionate. He doesn’t seem like he plans to let go anytime soon.

When you step into his bedroom, you stop short.

Books are scattered across the bed—at least twenty of them. Many seem ancient, with cracked spines, yellowed pages, and delicate edges. Some are open, while others are piled unevenly. More are tossed across the floor, as if he stopped caring where they landed.

“Buddha, what’s…” You gesture helplessly at the chaos. “All this?”

He releases your hand only to drag one of the older books closer. “I spoke to Vaeris,” he says evenly. “He claims he existed before time.” A pause. “And that he exists outside the cycle.”

You blink. “The cycle?”

“The cycle,” he nods. “Birth. Death. Rebirth. Cause and effect. Every being is bound to it. Even gods.”Buddha’s gaze drifts to one of the open books before returning to you. There’s something unsettled there. “If he’s telling the truth…” His jaw tightens slightly.

You shake your head. “Then there’s no way he’s telling the truth, right? So I just need to figure out where Dad is from—”

“I’m not so sure, _____.”

“Huh?”

“I was looking for information in a library, and an older god had heard the name before.” Buddha begins stacking the books. “He has no face to the name, and by the next morning, Vaeris had been erased from his father’s mind. He said it felt unsettling.”

You raise a brow, “Okay, so if he is correct, what time period was it? Maybe we could start by seeing if Vaeris was a name used then? We could get a location.” The information you had done on your father’s name prior came up empty.

Buddha glances at you from the corner of his eye. “Sit down.”

The shift in his tone throws you off. You move a few books aside and sit on the edge of the bed, looking up at him.

The way he’s staring at you now is almost unsettling. No teasing grin. No warmth softening the sharpness of his features. Just focus—intense and calculating. It’s similar to the expression he’s given other gods. The one that makes him seem nearly frightening.

He must see it register on your face.

Before the discomfort has a chance to settle, he drops the books beside you to the floor and sits close. His hand lifts gently, fingers brushing your jaw as he leans in and presses his forehead to yours.

The tension in his expression melts instantly. He kisses your cheek.

“Honeybee,” he says softly, deliberately softening the tone of his voice, “let me tell you what I’ve found.”

He pulls back just enough to look at you properly. “Every human leaves a record,” he says, tone calm again but still serious. “Not a biography. Just a first imprint. The moment they enter the cycle—birth, death, something. There’s always a beginning point.”

You tilt your head slightly. “Okay…”

“I checked the registry,” he continues. “There’s no origin entry for Vaeris. Not in any human record.”

You frown, “So he’s not human.” I guess that makes sense based on what we’ve learned so far. 

A quiet pause lingers between you before he adds, almost casually, “So I looked into gods.”

You straighten slightly. Does that mean he found something? You search his face for it—looking for the answer, the reveal. If he knows who your father is, then maybe you can start narrowing things down. Maybe you could even start investigating your mother from there—

“There’s no divine registry either,” he says, watching you carefully. “No pantheon record. No entry point. Nothing that indicates when he came into existence.”

You blink at him. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“No,” Buddha agrees evenly. He drags a hand down his face. “I’ve spoken to gods who’ve talked to him. Or even just passed him in the hall. They forget who he is within twenty minutes.”

You shake your head. “What? That doesn’t make sense. You remember him. Shiva remembers him. And growing up, he went to school meetings. My teachers knew him. They never forgot him—”

A faint smile touches his mouth. “I imagine that would be inconvenient.”

You furrow your brow. “Inconvenient?”

He looks at you more directly now. “If I had a daughter, I wouldn’t want her teachers forgetting who I was every time they saw me.”

Right, I guess that makes sense. You glance off to the side, trying to untangle everything he’s saying. “Could he be, like…a god of time or something?” You shrug, the thought slipping away as quickly as it forms. “I don’t know. I hate this. Why did he have to come back?” You let out a frustrated groan. “Everything was easier a few weeks ago. Then suddenly there was Ragnarok. Dad coming back. You.”

“Me?”

You exhale sharply. “Yeah, you. You weren’t exactly part of my quiet, uncomplicated life plan.”

A faint curve touches his mouth. “Yet the god of destruction was?”

“Shiva’s my best friend—wait, stop, I get distracted too easily. So, could he be a god of time?”

Buddha shakes his head. “I don’t think so.”

“Why not? If he messes with memories, time seems close enough.”

“A god of time would still be recorded,” he replies calmly. “They would still belong to a pantheon. They would still have a point of origin. Even gods of time are bound to the cycle in some way.”

You frown. “So you’re saying he’s not human. Not a god. Not…anything?”

“I’m saying,” Buddha says gently, “that whatever he is, he doesn’t follow the same rules.”

You lean back slightly, processing that. “Okay, well—” you lift your hands, gesturing in front of you. “Do you have any idea what is outside...everything?” You try to picture it. All you can imagine is a black void, but what else is there outside of that? It’s weird. “What if that isn’t even his real body? Like he could be this…thing. Like floating around? Does that make sense? Do you understand what I mean?”

Buddha nods. “I do, regarding whether it makes sense. I’m struggling to make sense of anything. His claims about time and samsara don’t make sense, but I also can’t find anything that goes against his claims.”

“Oh.” You blink. “So, what is samsara? And what is supposed to be outside of it?”

“Nothing is supposed to be outside it.” He pauses, then looks at you more carefully. “You don’t know what samsara is?”

You shake your head.

Buddha looks at you for a moment, visibly taken aback. “Shiva is…” He hesitates, his brow furrowing slightly. “Never mind.”

He exhales through his nose. “There are six realms of existence. God realm, demi-god realm, human realm, animal realm, ghost realm, and hell.” He counts them off on his fingers as he speaks. “God, demi-god, and human realms are considered favorable. Animal, ghost, and hell are less favorable.”

“What?” You frown immediately. “Why is the animal realm less favorable? Animals are amazing. How could that be bad?” You stare at him as if he’s crazy. Animals are among the purest creatures on Earth. How could they be viewed as a bad realm?

Buddha opens his mouth, but you quickly cut in. “No, no. Never mind. Animals are good. There’s nothing you can say that will convince me otherwise.”

He pauses, then raises his hands slightly in quiet surrender. “We can revisit that another time.” He knows this isn’t the moment for a detailed discussion.

His expression settles once more, serious. “The point is that each realm is part of the same structure. Everything that exists moves through it. Except Vaeris, according to him.”

“Maybe he’s lying,” you offer.

Buddha tilts his head slightly. “No…I don’t think so.”

“You don’t?”

He hums softly, reaching out absentmindedly to smooth a loose strand of hair away from your face. “He doesn’t twist things. He just…stops.”

“Stops?”

“Mhm.” His thumb gently brushes your temple before he lets his hand fall. “He answers what’s asked. Nothing more.”

“That’s really frustrating.”

A faint smile touches his lips. “Yeah. It is.”

He nudges another book off the bed with his foot and moves closer, sitting cross-legged in front of you. “When I asked what he is,” Buddha continues softly, “he said he’d tell me if it became relevant.”

“To what?”

His eye softens slightly. “To you.”

You blink. “That sounds…protective.”

Buddha studies your face for a moment before slightly opening his arms in silent invitation. “It didn’t feel protective,” he says carefully. “More like…a condition.”

You don’t move right away, your thoughts drifting somewhere else.

He arches a brow, then leans forward and gently hooks his fingers into the hem of your shirt, tugging you closer. “Come here,” he murmurs, amused.

He pulls you close to his chest, one hand cupping the back of your head as his chin rests on top. His thumb casually brushes through your hair. “What do you think would make it ‘relevant’?” 

Relevant? You relax under his touch, staring into the distance as you try to come up with something. It doesn’t make sense. Nothing about your father makes sense. “So, you don’t think my dad is protective?”

Buddha hums softly. “Does he show any actions that remind you of Shiva?”

“Huh?”

“Shiva is protective,” Buddha explains easily. “Almost like an older brother hovering nearby.” His thumb continues its slow path through your hair. “A father would show something similar. Maybe quieter, maybe different…but it’s still there.”

“Shiva is not like a brother…”

“Sure.”

You groan under your breath, briefly pressing your forehead against his chest in frustration. Buddha softly chuckles above you, his sound more warm than mocking. “Alright,” he relents easily. “Not a brother.”

His fingers trail slowly through your hair again. “Shiva is protective,” he says after a moment. “Anyone can see that.” He presses his lips to your temple. “So am I.” Then his voice lowers slightly. “Your father doesn’t show that instinct.”

“Dad doesn’t show anything.” You huff. “He can’t even give a realistic fake smile.”

Buddha is quiet for a moment. “You told me he tried when you were younger,” he says softly.

“He did.” You laugh lightly. “I didn’t think it was weird when I was a kid; it seemed normal to me. But looking back, it was really bad. Dad can’t act.”

Buddha’s chin moves slightly against the top of your head. “That sounds less like emotion,” he says thoughtfully, “and more like someone learning how people are supposed to behave.”

“Yeah, he doesn’t bother anymore, but at least he tried until I was old enough that it didn’t affect me as badly as it would’ve if he showed no emotions.” You tilt your head. “I wonder if he would fake emotions again if—” Your mouth snaps shut.

“If?”

You clear your throat. “Sorry, I was thinking aloud. Bad habit.”

“Honeybee~ come on. Tell me.”

You shake your head against his chest. “It wasn’t important.”

Buddha hums softly, clearly unconvinced. His fingers scratch your scalp a bit, and a slight lift appears at the corner of his mouth. “It sounded important,” he murmurs.

“It wasn’t.”

“Mhm.”

You glance up at him suspiciously. “What does that mean?”

“It means,” he replies easily, “I think the children you were about to mention are a very serious topic.”

Your eyes narrow instantly. Buddha chuckles under his breath before you can protest, pressing a quick kiss to your temple. “Relax, honeybee. I’ll stop teasing you.”

You huff quietly.

After a moment, he adds more thoughtfully, “But it is an interesting question.” His chin shifts lightly on the top of your head. “If he tried to imitate emotions for you when you were little…would he do it again for your kids?” A soft laugh escapes him. “I’d honestly like to see that.”

You move a bit in his arms, thinking it over. "I have zero idea. Dad is weird—why are we talking about this?” 

Buddha chuckles. “You started it.”

“I did not.”

“You did.”

You tilt your head up to glare at him, but before you can retort again, he lowers his head and presses his lips against yours.

It’s quick, but warm enough to steal the irritation right out of you.

When he pulls back, that faintly amused look is still there.

“Distraction,” you mutter.

“Mhm,” he replies easily.

You narrow your eyes. “You’re avoiding my argument.”

“You didn’t have one,” Buddha says calmly. “You were about to repeat yourself.”

You narrow your eyes at him, unimpressed. Your hand slides up the back of his neck, fingers threading into the dark hair at the base of his skull before giving it a small, deliberate tug.

The reaction is immediate.

A low groan slips out before he can stop it, his arms instinctively tightening around you, pulling you closer against his chest. His chin dips slightly as he exhales through his nose, clearly aware you did that on purpose.

His fingers press a little more firmly at your waist. “Don’t tease me, cutie,” he mutters, voice lower now, though the faint amusement hasn’t completely left it.

You tilt your head slightly. “Tease you?” you repeat.

His eye narrows just a fraction. “Careful,” Buddha murmurs.

“Anyway, about my dad—”

“Really?”

“Hush.” You tug his hair again.

Another quiet sound escapes him, somewhere between a groan and a breath, his hand tightening briefly at your waist. “You always bring him up at times like this.”

“We were talking about him to start with. Anyway, we know even less now,” you continue, ignoring the look he’s giving you. “He’s not human. Probably not a god. Somehow outside Sam—uh.”

“Samsara.”

“Right, that.” You gesture vaguely with your free hand. “Which apparently includes us. Humans. Gods. Animals. Ghosts. All of it.”

Buddha hums softly in agreement.

“This is annoying.”

Buddha leans forward again, pressing his face against your neck. His warm breath caresses your skin as he speaks softly, his voice low against you. “Yeah,” he murmurs.

A quiet pause settles between you as his hand shifts at your waist, his thumb tracing slow circles through the fabric of your shirt.

“But it also means we’re asking the wrong questions.”

You tilt your head slightly, giving him a little more space against your neck. “What do you mean?”

He exhales softly before straightening up once more. His gaze wanders across the room—over the books scattered everywhere. A few still sit on the bed beside you, but most have been pushed aside or fallen to the floor. Some lie open where they landed, with yellowed pages curling slightly at the corners.

“We keep trying to figure out what your father is.”

You follow his gaze for a moment before turning back to him, furrowing your brow. “Isn’t that the point?”

“Maybe,” Buddha replies calmly. His eye shifts back to you. “But I’m beginning to think the more important question is why he’s here.”

You look at him, unease spreading in your chest. “…Here,” you repeat slowly. After a brief pause, you add, a little too quickly, “Like Valhalla?”

Buddha studies your face for a moment before shaking his head once. “No.” The answer hits harder than you expected. His thumb slows down where it had been lazily tracing circles at your side as he continues, voice thoughtful rather than alarmed. “I mean here. Inside the cycle.”

You exhale softly through your nose. “Of course you do.” You pull away from him and fall back onto the bed, narrowly missing one of the books as it slides beneath your shoulder. “I thought today was going to be relaxing. Sleep until noon, read, maybe watch the weird shows gods have on their TVs. Hell, possibly bake some cookies—”

“I’m not stopping you from baking cookies.”

You glance over at him.

Buddha hasn’t moved from where he’s sitting, one arm resting loosely over his knee as he watches you with quiet amusement.

“If anything,” he adds casually, nudging one of the books aside with his foot, “I fully support the cookie plan.”

Of course he does. You roll your eyes at him. But then again…cookies do sound good right now. Your mind could use a break from everything that’s hit you within the last hour.

You look up at the ceiling, letting your thoughts drift for a moment instead of chasing after them. Vaeris. Samsara. Missing records. Questions that don’t have answers to.

“…I guess cookies do sound good right now,” you admit quietly.

Beside you, Buddha shifts slightly on the bed. You feel the movement more than see it. “Cookies sound good anytime,” he replies easily, wrapping an arm around your waist.

You roll onto your side to face him, the movement bringing you closer until your noses almost touch. “How am I supposed to bake cookies when you’re making yourself more comfortable with me in bed?”

A faint smile tugs at his lips. His arm tightens just enough to prevent you from rolling away as his thumb traces a slow line along your side.

“You’re the one who laid down,” he points out calmly.

You open your mouth to argue, but the words never make it out.

Buddha’s gaze briefly drops to your lips before shifting back to your eyes. The amusement there softens into something more subdued. His hand moves from your waist to the back of your neck, fingers lightly entangling in your hair as he closes the small space between you.

This time the kiss isn’t quick.

His lips press more firmly against yours before his hand shifts, fingers tightening in the hair at the back of your neck. The slight tug pulls a soft gasp from you, and Buddha takes advantage of it immediately.

The faint grape flavor from the lollipop he had earlier still lingers as his tongue brushes against yours, his other hand slipping up along your jaw, thumb resting just beneath your cheekbone as he deepens the kiss.

When he finally pulls back, he doesn’t move far, your foreheads nearly touching, his breath still warm against your lips. A second later, he leans in again, this time catching your lower lip with a quick nip between his teeth.

You pull back slightly. “Your teeth are too sharp.”

“Shut up,” he teases, the words brushing against your skin as he shifts and nips lightly at your jaw instead. “You like them.”

“…They are weirdly cute on you.” You laugh softly.

“I love you.”

You open your mouth to respond, but his left hand swiftly moves up, covering it.

“Ah, ah,” he murmurs, amusement warm in his voice. “I told you no.” He nudges his face against your cheek, nuzzling lightly before pulling back just enough to look at you again. “Still not ready.” His thumb brushes once along your jaw. “Now…about those cookies.”

He sits up and pulls you along with him. Your eyes flick downward involuntarily, catching how his muscles shift beneath the thin fabric of his tank top as he moves.

“Honeybee,” he says lazily, noticing immediately, “you aren’t going to get to the cookies if you keep looking at me like that.”

Your eyes widen. “I wasn’t looking—I mean—looking at what?” You glance away quickly. “I just—why do you always do this to me?”

“I’m not making you stare,” he replies casually.

You open your mouth to argue, then hesitate, realizing that it will probably just make it worse. “…How did you even notice?”

Buddha laughs softly and swings his legs off the bed, standing. “I can always feel when my honeybee’s eyes are on me.”

You quietly huff under your breath as you slip off the bed after him.

Before you can walk past, he catches your hand and pulls you toward him instead, the movement smooth and effortless. “Come on,” he murmurs, clearly pleased with himself. “Let’s go bake those cookies before you get distracted again.”

“I was going to bake some cookies the other day, the night before Loki’s match.”

“You didn’t?”

You shrug. “A lot was going on. I got distracted.”  

Buddha hums softly. “Honeybee, you get distracted pretty easily, don’t you?”

“Well,” you hesitate slightly, “Shiva wasn’t happy that I spent the day with you.” You glance away for a moment before continuing. “Then he started talking about what happens if humans win. Did you know nothing actually happens to the gods? Humans get wiped out if they lose, but if the gods lose…nothing.”

Buddha raises a brow.

“Of course I knew,” he replies easily. “The gods would never have agreed to Ragnarok if there was even the slightest chance they’d be wiped out too.” His shoulders lift in a lazy shrug. “Even if they believed humans had no chance at all, they still wouldn’t risk it.”

You huff softly. “Gods are so annoying.”

“Yup.”

Buddha squeezes your hand once as he pulls you toward the kitchen. “What kind of cookies do you want to bake?”

“Probably some that don’t need to sit,” you reply. “Otherwise I’ll be stuck here for six hours waiting for the dough to come to temperature.”

“I don’t see a problem with that.”

You smack his bicep, and it feels like hitting a wall. Instantly, you pull your hand back, shaking it out with a small scowl. These gods have way too much muscle. “Shut up,” you mutter. “But honestly, I prefer a recipe I can mix and bake in an hour. Don’t you want cookies as soon as possible?” 

Buddha narrows his eye at you slightly. “Are you trying to manipulate me with sweets?”

“Is it working?”

“Yup.”

Buddha’s arm tightens around your waist as he gently pulls you closer. He turns his head and gives a teasing kiss to your cheek, completely unbothered by how your face instantly flushes. “But that doesn’t mean I’m letting you go anytime soon,” he murmurs. “I’ll just be getting my cookies as soon as possible.”

------------------------------

“Okay! I have the perfect recipe,” you announce, it’s a simple one you have memorized. “There’s no chill time, and you should have nice warm sugar cookies in about an hour.”

You begin arranging ingredients across the counter—flour, sugar, butter, eggs—lining them out in a neat line.

Buddha leans over the counter opposite you, forearms on the cool surface as he observes with open curiosity.

“First step—preheat the oven. One ninety.”

You look up at him expectantly.

After a moment, he nods and glances at the compact oven he pulled from somewhere and set against the wall on the bar. Without fully straightening, he reaches over and turns the dial.

“Now measure out the ingredients.”

You slide the container of flour and the sticks of butter toward him while measuring the baking soda and baking powder into a bowl.

As you start whisking the dry ingredients together, you gesture toward the mixing bowl beside him.

“Start mixing the butter and sugar.”

“What are you doing?” you ask suddenly, staring at him like he’s committed a crime.

Buddha has already dropped two sticks of butter into the bowl and is enthusiastically pouring sugar directly over them.

“I thought I was supposed to mix them.” His eye widens slightly, confusion flashing across his face.

“The butter is supposed to be softened,” you say, setting the whisk down. “But since we aren’t taking the time to soften it, you need to cut it into smaller pieces first.”

Buddha glances down at the bowl, then back at you.

“…you didn’t tell me that.”

You stare at him for a moment.

“Get out of the kitchen.”

The words come out sharp and immediate.

For a second, there’s silence.

Then Buddha slowly steps back from the counter, raising both hands in surrender. Instead of looking offended, he settles onto the stool across from you, one elbow resting on the bar as a slow grin spreads across his face.

His eye drifts over you as you quickly return to the bowl, whisk moving fast again, focused entirely on the ingredients.

“Well,” he murmurs, clearly amused, “this is new.”

You ignore him.

Buddha tilts his head slightly, watching you with interest, his chin now resting lazily in his palm. “Didn’t know my honeybee had a strict side.”

He chuckles lightly. “…I like it.”

You snap your head up and give him a blank stare—one that matches your father perfectly.

But there’s a big difference between your father and you.

Buddha winks.

Your composure immediately falls apart. Heat floods to your face as you turn back to the dough a bit too quickly. You slide the bowl toward him. “You don’t have an electric mixer. It’s hard to mix—you’re strong. You can help.”

Buddha pulls the bowl toward himself, clearly entertained. “Yes, ma’am.”

It doesn’t take him long to mix it to the perfect consistency. Of course it doesn’t. You puff your cheeks slightly, watching the spoon move easily through the dough, a little jealous of how effortless it looks in his hands. I can’t wait to go home and use my mixer. You sigh quietly at the thought. I can’t wait to go home.

You’re pulled out of your thoughts when you see him scooping a bit of cookie dough onto his finger and eating it.

“What are you doing!? You can’t—”

He grins and suddenly pushes a bit toward your mouth, catching you off guard as he pushes it past your lips.

“Isn’t the best part eating the dough?”

He’s not wrong. You pause for a second before glancing back at the counter. “…Do you have parchment paper?”

Buddha leans back slightly on the stool. “Somewhere.” He gestures lazily toward the cabinets. “You need to learn your kitchen, honeybee.”

You glance at him. “It’s your kitchen.”

“For now,” he replies easily.

Then he steals another bit of dough.

---------------------

“Don’t touch them! It’s too hot.” Your eyes widen as he reaches for a cookie the second you set the pan on the counter.

Buddha pauses, staring directly into your eyes as he picks one up anyway. He doesn’t even flinch as he brings it to his mouth. “I’m a god, babe.”

He takes a bite and immediately groans at the warmth and flavor. Then, without hesitation, he brings the cookie to your lips. “So talented, ______.”

You open your mouth, the flavor of vanilla washing over your senses. It’s soft and warm, almost melting the second it touches your tongue. His left arm slips around your waist as he holds the cookie in place. When you take another bite, he pulls it back and finishes the rest himself.

Buddha watches you quietly for a moment as you lean against the counter, your focus still on the tray of cookies. His hand gently rests against your side, fingers brushing your waist.

“You look tired,” he says after a moment. “Want to take a nap? After we finish the cookies?”

You look at the tray, then back at him. “Can you eat thirty cookies?”

“Easily.”

You snort softly, but he just smiles and reaches for another cookie. Before taking a bite, he nudges his shoulder against yours. “To be fair,” he adds casually, “I might’ve woken you up a little early.”

“A little?” You look up at him, the sun hadn’t even fully risen yet. “I wanted to sleep till noon.”

“I had something important to talk about with you.” His grin widens. “Also…I wanted to see you.”

You roll your eyes, but the warmth of his hand remains at your waist. “Come on,” he murmurs after a moment, already reaching for the tray. “Let’s take these with us. We can take a nap.” His eye flicks toward the clock on the wall. “It’s nine now. You can still sleep until noon.” He teases.

“I could’ve had six extra hours of sleep. Now it’s only three.” You tsk, ducking slightly as he lifts one tray to dump the cookies onto the second before picking it up to carry toward his room.

“I’ll find a way to make it up to you,” he promises, taking your hand with his free one.

It doesn’t take long for you to fall asleep. Three cookies later, you’re curled against his chest, exhaustion finally taking over. He holds you close to his right side, his hand gently moving along your back until your breathing deepens and your body becomes completely still.

Carefully, he reaches behind his head for the pillow and slides it into place, replacing himself so you don’t stir.

He moves silently to the dresser, rummaging through the scattered items until he finds what he’s looking for. Papers slide aside until the drawing of the woman appears.

His hand closes around it.

The paper crumples slowly in his grip.

Buddha exhales quietly. “Manipulative bastard.”