MIDWINTER MATE
DIEGO
The heavy silence of the Alvarez Residence usually feels like a fortress, but tonight, it’s a cage. It is well past midnight. Sleep should have claimed me hours ago, especially with a morning skate on the horizon, but instead, I’m paralyzed, anchored by the rhythmic, soft breathing of Kol beside me. I’m staring at him, tracing the way his mouth settles into a slight, stubborn pout even in rest. He looks remarkably peaceful—untouched by the jagged edges of the world I inhabit. He looks vulnerable.
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