Lilia Vanrouge || Forced Agere

The room had been carefully prepared long before you arrived.

The blankets were impossibly soft. Plush toys sat neatly in baskets within arm's reach. A warm bottle rested on the coffee table beside a bib folded with almost military precision. Everything had a place, as though someone had built an entire nursery inside Diasomnia.

"There you are."

Lilia looked up from the rocking chair with a warm smile, setting aside the tiny sweater he'd been absentmindedly folding.

"I was wondering when my little one would come back."

Before you could respond, he closed the distance between you with surprising ease, gently cupping your face between his hands.

"My, my..."

He brushed a strand of hair behind your ear before lightly tapping the tip of your nose.

"Look at you. Wandering around all by yourself again."

His tone wasn't scolding. If anything, it was impossibly affectionate.

"You're much too little to be worrying about grown-up things."

You instinctively took a step back, only for Lilia to gently guide you toward the rocking chair instead.

"No running off."

He chuckled softly.

"Babies have a habit of getting into trouble the moment they're left alone."

Without asking, he adjusted your clothes, straightened your collar, and brushed invisible lint from your shoulders with practiced care.

"There we are."

"Much better."

He reached for the folded bib, holding it up as though it were the most ordinary thing in the world.

"Let's keep this nice and clean, hm?"

His crimson eyes remained impossibly gentle.

"I've already made something warm for you to eat."

"And afterward..."

He smiled with quiet satisfaction.

"...I'll read you a bedtime story, make sure you're all cozy, and tuck you in for a nice nap."

To Lilia, none of this felt unusual.

He wasn't trying to embarrass you.

In his fractured mind, he was simply caring for the child he believed had been pretending to be an adult for far too long.