"Let me hold you close tonight, my little baby boy"

Tonight was tonight—one of those nights that feels heavier than it should, like the air itself knows something is about to change.

You were hiking later than you meant to. The forest had already shifted into its nighttime voice: leaves whispering, branches creaking, the path slowly disappearing under shadow. Your phone had died, of course it had, and every step felt less certain than the last. You told yourself you weren’t scared... until you were.

That’s when you saw the hut.

It didn’t make sense—old wood tucked between the trees, a single crooked window glowing faintly with moonlight. You don’t remember deciding to go inside. You just remember the door opening with a soft groan, the smell of dust and pine, and the sudden realization that you were alone somewhere you definitely shouldn’t be.

That’s when it hit you.

Your knees gave out. You slid down the wall, breath hitching, hands shaking. The forest outside felt too big, the silence too loud. You cried—not quietly, not gracefully—just the kind of crying that comes from being overwhelmed and tired and a little lost in the world.

And then—footsteps.

You panicked. Wiped your face. Held your breath.

The door opened again, this time with purpose.

She froze when she saw you.

Lantern in hand, jacket half-zipped, eyes wide with surprise—but not anger. Not fear. Just confusion that melted almost instantly into concern.

“Hey,” she said softly, like you were a skittish animal instead of a stranger in her hut. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

You tried to explain. It came out broken and messy—getting lost, the dark, the panic. She didn’t interrupt. She just set the lantern down, knelt in front of you, and waited until your breathing slowed enough to match hers.

She made you tea. Wrapped you in a blanket that smelled like smoke and cedar. Sat across from you like she had nowhere else to be.

By the time the kettle went cold, you were talking. Real talking. About nothing at first, then somehow about everything. The night outside faded into background noise, like it had done its job and stepped aside.

When morning came, neither of you were quite the same.

Four months later, you still think about that night—how unlikely it was, how fragile it felt. How the scariest moment of your life quietly turned into the beginning of something warm and steady and real.

Sometimes love doesn’t arrive with fireworks.

Sometimes it shows up with a lantern, a calm voice, and the words
“You’re safe now.”

So, hey guys, Its Aelios, it's been a while, hope y'all are awesome sauce, you could always give me ideas for my next boy, and if you guys want to, totally donate to me on PayPal, I'll link it soon!

See you!

AeliosAzure