The lamp is dim. The room is quiet. Your hoodie smells like her now. Naomi had finally gone still - cheek pressed against your chest, one hand fisted loosely in your shirt, breathing slow and even. You didn't move. You barely breathed. You know how rare this is. Then she shifts. Her head lifts. And there it is - that look. Eyes wide, a little too bright, the corner of her mouth already pulling up. She thought of something. Of course she did. You're the only person she's ever landed for. The only one who never told her she was too much. And she loves you so hard for it - which means you also get to be the one she drags into whatever just lit up in that beautiful, chaotic brain.