Unspoken Love

The gleaming marble floors of Armada Airlines headquarters mirrored Aquilla Quin Armada Arceta's resolute steps. Known as Quill to her family and close friends, she moved with determination. She adjusted her navy blazer, smoothing imaginary wrinkles as she crossed the expansive lobby. The morning crowd parted around her - another face in the sea of suits and briefcases. Just how her grandfather wanted it.

"Morning, Miss Arceta," a senior executive called out with a deferential nod.

Quill returned the gesture, her ponytail swaying with the motion. The weight of her surname clung to her shoulders like a heavy cloak. Even dressed down in her intern attire, there was no escaping who she was - the heir to an aviation empire, working her way up from the bottom.

Her grandfather's words echoed in her mind: "True leaders must understand every level of the business, Aquilla. Start from scratch, earn their respect."

The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime. Quill stepped inside, grateful for the momentary solitude. Her reflection stared back at her from the brushed steel walls - composed, professional, everything expected of an Arceta. But her eyes betrayed the truth, a flicker of uncertainty beneath the polished surface.

Her phone buzzed. A text from Sky lit up the screen - a string of heart emojis followed by "Coffee later?"

Quill's chest tightened. She typed back a quick "Of course" while trying to ignore how her pulse quickened at the mere thought of seeing Sky. Those stolen moments over lattes had become both salvation and torture - watching Sky's eyes light up as she described her latest design project or relationship drama, pretending her own heart wasn't breaking piece by piece.

The elevator continued its ascent. Quill leaned against the wall, allowing herself one brief moment of vulnerability. How many years had she carried these feelings? Buried them beneath friendship and family duty? Sometimes she wondered if her grandfather had known - if this internship was as much about keeping her busy as it was about learning the business.

The floor indicator ticked upward, each number bringing her closer to another day of spreadsheets and meetings. Another day of being Aquilla Quin Armada Arceta, dutiful heir and intern. Another day of loving Skyler Bree Sevilleja from a distance that felt both too far and not far enough.

The elevator's gentle hum faded as Quill's mind drifted to that afternoon fifteen years ago.

Fallen leaves had scattered across the park's winding paths, creating a carpet of red and gold. The memory rose vivid and clear - Sky perched on her pink bicycle, knuckles white against the handlebar grips.

"I can't do it, Ate Quill." Sky's lower lip trembled. "What if I crash?"

"I won't let you fall." Quill gripped the back of Sky's seat, steadying the wobbling bike. "Just keep pedaling, remember?"

Sunlight filtered through the trees as Sky pushed forward, her chestnut hair streaming behind her. Quill jogged alongside, one hand on the bike, watching Sky's determination build with each rotation of the pedals.

"That's it! You're doing great-"

The front wheel caught on a stick. Sky screamed as the bike tilted, sending her sprawling onto the path. Quill's heart lurched. She sprinted to Sky's side, dropping to her knees beside her friend.

"Are you okay?" Quill's hands fluttered over Sky's scraped knee, her dirt-smudged cheeks. She pulled out her handkerchief - the one her grandfather insisted she always carry - and dabbed at Sky's face with gentle strokes.

"It hurts. Ate Quill, masakit." Sky's voice quivered, but her eyes remained dry.

"You're so brave, baby Sky." Quill's brushed a leaf from Sky's hair. "Most people would be crying."

Sky's face broke into a radiant smile, transforming her whole expression. "That's because you're here. You're like... like superwoman! Always saving me."

Something shifted in Quill's chest - unfamiliar, warm, overwhelming. She found herself staring at Sky's smile, at the way her eyes crinkled at the corners, how the sunlight caught the gold flecks in her irises. The moment stretched, crystallized.

Quill swallowed hard and forced a small smile, not understanding why her heart raced or why she suddenly wanted to pull Sky close and never let go. She helped Sky to her feet, steadying her when she winced.

"Ready to try again?"

"Only if you stay with me."

"Always," Quill promised, meaning it more than she knew how to express.

»

Quill's pen glided across her leather-bound notebook, capturing every detail of the heated budget discussion. Around the mahogany conference table, voices rose and fell like turbulent waves. The CFO's face had turned an alarming shade of red as he jabbed his finger at the projected figures.

"These numbers don't add up. We can't justify this spending-"

"The maintenance costs are non-negotiable," the Head of Operations cut in. "Safety regulations-"

"If I may." Quill's voice carried across the room, quiet yet firm. The arguing executives fell silent, turning toward her. "The maintenance costs could be offset by restructuring our fuel contracts. I noticed our current supplier's rates are significantly higher than market average."

She flipped through her notes, presenting the calculations she'd worked out during the meeting. "A renegotiation could save us twelve percent annually without compromising safety standards."

The tension in the room dissolved. The CFO leaned back, eyebrows raised. The Head of Operations nodded slowly, a smile tugging at his lips.

"Well researched, Miss Arceta," her boss said, but Quill barely registered the praise.

Her mind had already drifted to her coffee date with Sky later. The thought of Sky's animated chatter about her latest design project felt more real than the approving looks around the table. More genuine than this choreographed dance of corporate politics.

Quill's fingers brushed against her phone in her blazer pocket. Sky had sent another text during the meeting - probably a fashion crisis or relationship drama that needed immediate attention. The kind of problem that made more sense to Quill than quarterly projections and profit margins.

She remembered helping Sky organize her first fashion show in college. The chaos of scattered fabric swatches and safety pins had felt more like home than any boardroom ever had. Sky's infectious enthusiasm had filled the cramped studio with possibility, making even the most daunting challenges seem manageable.

The meeting continued around her. Quill maintained her professional mask, adding relevant comments when needed. But her heart wasn't in the strategic planning or the careful political maneuvering. It was with a chestnut-haired dreamer who probably needed her opinion on color palettes or relationship advice.

Quill's phone vibrated against the conference table, Sky's name flashing across the screen. Her heart skipped - Sky never called during work hours unless something was wrong. She excused herself with a quiet "Sorry, I need to take this" and slipped out of the meeting room.

"Sky?" The trembling breath on the other end made Quill's chest tighten. "What's wrong?"

"He-" Sky's voice cracked. "He was seeing someone else. The whole time."

Quill's fingers curled into a fist at her side. The familiar surge of protectiveness mixed with a deeper ache - one she refused to acknowledge. She found a quiet corner near the window, away from curious eyes.

"I should have known." Sky's words dissolved into quiet sobs. "All those late nights at work, the missed calls..."

"Listen to me." Quill pressed her forehead against the cool glass, wishing she could reach through the phone and hold Sky close. "You deserve so much more, Sky. Someone who sees how incredible you are. Someone who-" She caught herself, swallowing the words that threatened to spill out. Someone who would love you the way I do.

"But what if there's something wrong with me?" Sky's voice sounded small, fragile. "What if I'm just not enough?"

The words cut through Quill like glass. How could Sky not see? How could anyone hurt her like this? She wanted to tell Sky everything - how her smile lit up rooms, how her passion for design inspired everyone around her, how perfectly enough she was.

Instead, Quill tucked away her feelings behind the safe wall of friendship. "Walang mali sayo. He's the one who didn't deserve you."

Her free hand pressed against the window, steadying herself as she listened to Sky's breathing slowly even out. Each sob felt like a knife twisting in her chest, but Quill kept her voice gentle, steady. The voice of a best friend. Nothing more.

Quill's reflection blurred in the window as she listened to Sky's uneven breathing through the phone. Behind her, the muted sounds of the office faded away, irrelevant compared to Sky's pain.

"Where are you?" Quill asked, already reaching for her purse.

"Home. I couldn't- I couldn't face classes today."

"Give me thirty minutes." Quill glanced at the conference room where the budget meeting continued without her. Her grandfather's voice echoed in her mind about responsibility and duty, but she pushed it aside. Some things mattered more.

"'Di mo na kailangang pumun-"

"I want to." Quill's heels clicked against marble as she strode toward the elevator. "Have you eaten?"

"Not hungry."

"Diyan ka lang, I'll be there soon."

Quill drew a steadying breath and stepped back into the conference room. The discussion had moved on to marketing projections, but all eyes turned to her as she entered. Her spine straightened under their scrutiny.

"I apologize, but I need to handle an urgent personal matter." Her voice remained professional despite the thundering in her chest. "I've prepared detailed notes on the fuel contract proposal and will email them before end of day. Would it be possible to continue this discussion tomorrow?"

The CFO's brow furrowed, but her direct supervisor gave an understanding nod. "Of course, Miss Arceta. Family emergency?"

"Something like that." Quill gathered her laptop and notebooks, movements precise and controlled. She refused to let her hands shake or her voice waver. Years of board meetings beside her grandfather had taught her how to maintain composure even when her heart ached.

The Head of Operations leaned forward. "We'll reconvene at nine tomorrow. Your insights on the fuel contracts were quite valuable."

Quill inclined her head in acknowledgment, already calculating the fastest route to Sky's apartment. The weight of their stares followed her to the door - some curious, others disapproving. She knew there would be whispers later about the Arceta heir ducking out of meetings, but she couldn't bring herself to care.

Sky needed her. Everything else could wait.

Quill's heels clicked against the parking garage concrete as she made her way to her car. The familiar route to Sweethearts Bakery played in her mind - a detour she'd made countless times before. Each heartbreak, every setback, she'd shown up with the same box of chocolate cupcakes from the same corner shop.

The bell chimed as she pushed open the bakery door. Mrs. Cruz's face lit up with recognition.

"The usual?" The elderly baker was already reaching for the pink box.

"Please. Salamat po." Quill watched as Mrs. Cruz selected six perfect chocolate cupcakes, each topped with a swirl of dark chocolate frosting. The same order she'd been getting since their high school days, when Sky first fell apart over a boy who didn't deserve her tears.

The drive to Sky's apartment passed in a blur of traffic lights and familiar streets. Quill balanced the pink box in one hand as she knocked on Sky's door. The sound of shuffling feet, then a pause.

Sky opened the door, her face bare of makeup, wearing an oversized sweater that swallowed her frame. Her eyes were red-rimmed, but they widened at the sight of the familiar pink box.

"Naalala mo." Sky's voice caught.

Quill held out the box, drinking in the way Sky's expression softened, how the corners of her mouth lifted despite everything. That spark of joy, however brief, made Quill's heart flutter. These were the moments she lived for - when she could ease Sky's pain, even just a little.

Sky took the box, fingers brushing against Quill's. The touch sent electricity through Quill's skin, but she kept her expression neutral, warm but controlled. This wasn't about her feelings. It never was.

"Of course I remembered." Quill stepped inside, letting the familiar scent of Sky's vanilla candles wash over her. She'd memorized every detail of Sky's favorites years ago - the way she liked her coffee, which movies made her cry, how these specific cupcakes always coaxed a smile from her lips.

Each small act of care was a love letter Quill would never send, written in chocolate frosting and quiet understanding. She watched as Sky opened the box, that familiar light dancing in her eyes despite the tear tracks on her cheeks. It was enough, Quill told herself. It had to be.

Sky curled up on her couch, knees tucked to her chest. Her fingers traced the edge of the pink bakery box. "I found messages on his phone. He'd been seeing her for months."

Quill's jaw clenched. She perched on the edge of the couch, close enough to comfort but maintaining that careful distance she always kept. "What's her name?"

"Lisa." Sky's voice cracked. "She works at his firm. I should have known when he kept talking about late meetings with the legal team."

The urge to reach out and pull Sky close burned through Quill's chest. Instead, she opened the bakery box, selecting a cupcake and placing it in Sky's trembling hands. "Tell me everything."

"He took her to that new Italian place downtown." Sky picked at the cupcake's frosting. "The one I kept hinting about wanting to go at gusto ko i-try. He said it was too expensive when I suggested it."

Each word felt like a knife twisting in Quill's chest. She'd seen this pattern before - Sky giving her whole heart to men who treated her love like an afterthought. The familiar anger rose, but Quill swallowed it down. Her feelings didn't matter right now.

"Hindi ka niya deserve, Sky. None of them did."

"But what if-"

"No." Quill's voice came out sharper than intended. She softened her tone. "Don't you dare blame yourself for his choices."

Sky's shoulders slumped. "I just thought this time would be different. He seemed so..." She trailed off, staring at the half-eaten cupcake in her hands.

"Perfect at first?" Quill filled in the silence. "They always do."

»

Through the sliding glass door, Sky's silhouette glowed against the backdrop of city lights. She'd changed into her favorite pink pajamas, phone pressed to her ear as she curled up in the oversized balcony chair. The wine glass in her free hand caught the moonlight, casting ruby shadows across her face.

Quill leaned against the doorframe, watching as Sky's animated gestures punctuated whatever story she told into the phone. Even in the midst of heartbreak, Sky radiated life. Her chestnut hair caught the breeze, dancing around her shoulders as she threw her head back in laughter at something her friend said.

That laugh. It rippled through the night air like music, tugging at something deep in Quill's chest. Her fingers tightened around her own untouched wine glass. She'd give anything to be the source of that sound, to be the one drawing genuine joy from Sky's lips instead of just being the shoulder she cried on.

Sky's hand swept through the air, nearly spilling her wine as she exclaimed, "And then - you won't believe this - Quill shows up with cupcakes! Like she always knows exactly when I need her."

The words wrapped around Quill's heart like a vice. If only Sky knew how much more she wanted to give, how many unspoken feelings lived in those simple gestures of comfort. But Quill remained rooted to her spot, content to exist in Sky's orbit without disturbing the delicate balance they'd built.

Another peal of laughter drifted through the night air. Sky's eyes crinkled at the corners, her whole face lighting up with that infectious joy that made strangers stop and stare. Quill's breath caught. These were the moments that made loving Sky from a distance both heaven and torture - watching her shine so bright it hurt to look directly at her, yet being unable to look away.

Sky turned, catching Quill's gaze through the glass. Her smile softened into something warm and familiar as she waved Quill over. But Quill shook her head, gesturing to her phone to indicate she had work emails to check. It was easier this way, safer in the shadows where her feelings couldn't betray her.

Quill set down her empty wine glass, watching as Sky's shoulders finally relaxed after hours of talking through the pain. The city lights painted soft shadows across Sky's face, her eyes clearer now despite the remnants of tears.

"Uwi na ako, Sky." Quill stood, smoothing her wrinkled blazer. "Early meeting tomorrow."

Sky's fingers caught her wrist. "Thank you. For dropping everything to be here."

"Always." The word carried more weight than Quill intended.

Sky rose from her chair, closing the distance between them. Her arms wrapped around Quill's waist, pulling her into a tight embrace. The familiar scent of vanilla and jasmine enveloped Quill , making her heart stutter.

"I don't know what I'd do kung wala ka." Sky's words brushed against Quill's neck. "You're the only one who's never let me down."

Quill's arms encircled Sky, one hand cradling the back of her head. She allowed herself this moment of closeness, memorizing the way Sky fit perfectly against her.

"You're my rock, Quill. My constant." Sky squeezed tighter. "Promise you'll never change?"

"Pangako." Quill closed her eyes, fighting the urge to press a kiss to Sky's temple. Instead, she rubbed gentle circles on Sky's back, the way she always did when words weren't enough.

They stayed like that, wrapped in each other's arms as the city hummed below. Quill's heart thundered against her ribs, but she kept her breathing steady, controlled. This was enough, she told herself. It had to be.

»

Quill sank into her couch, still in her work clothes from earlier. The TV played some random Netflix show she'd put on for background noise, but her attention stayed fixed on her phone. Sky's text lit up the screen:

"I really thought he was the one. I don't know what went wrong."

Her chest tightened. The familiar dance began - fingers hovering over the keyboard, deleting and retyping words that could never fully capture what she wanted to say. How could she explain that nothing went wrong with Sky? That the fault lay with men who couldn't see the masterpiece right in front of them?

Quill typed back:

"You deserve better, Sky. Someone who'll always be there for you."

The words felt hollow, inadequate. Someone who'd always be there - like she had been, like she would always be. Someone who'd notice how Sky's eyes sparkled when she talked about her designs, who'd remember her coffee order without asking, who'd show up with chocolate cupcakes just because.

The typing indicator appeared, disappeared, appeared again. Quill held her breath, watching the screen. Finally, Sky's response came through:

"Thanks, Ate. You always know what to say."

Ate. Big sister. The title wrapped around Quill's throat like a noose. She'd earned it through years of protection, of being Sky's shoulder to cry on, her voice of reason. But god, how it stung now.

Quill's fingers moved without permission:

"Sky, I-" She deleted it immediately. No. This wasn't about her feelings. Sky needed her stable, dependable Ate Quill right now, not... whatever confession threatened to spill from her heart.

Instead, she sent back a simple heart emoji. Safe. Sisterly. The kind of love Sky expected from her, even if it was only a fraction of what Quill felt.

Her phone fell silent. Quill stared at their conversation, at all the things left unsaid between the lines of comfort and care. She'd gotten good at this - being exactly what Sky needed, nothing more, nothing less. Even if every "Ate" felt like a reminder of the line she couldn't cross.

»

Quill squinted at the fuel contract spread across her desk, the numbers blurring together. Her pen tapped against the mahogany surface as she tried to focus on the pricing structure, but her thoughts kept drifting to Sky's tear-stained face from the night before.

The quarterly projections demanded her attention. Red marks dotted the margins where she'd caught discrepancies, but her usual sharp focus wavered. Her phone sat silent beside the stack of papers, no messages since Sky's morning text:

"Still feel like garbage."

"Miss Arceta?" Her supervisor knocked on her office door. "How's the review coming along?"

"Almost finished." Quill straightened in her chair, shuffling the papers into a neat pile. "I've identified several areas that need revision."

"Excellent. The board meeting's at two."

The door clicked shut. Quill's shoulders slumped as she turned back to the contract. The words swam before her eyes - fuel surcharges, operating costs, liability clauses. Usually, these details energized her. She lived for discovering hidden inefficiencies, for protecting the company's interests.

But now? Her gaze drifted to the window, to the slice of sky visible between skyscrapers. Was Sky still in bed? Had she eaten?

"Focus," Quill muttered, pressing her palms against her eyes. The contract needed her full attention. Lives depended on these details - pilot safety, passenger security, the jobs of thousands of employees.

Her pen scratched against paper as she forced herself to analyze each clause. Section 4.2 needed clarification. The liability terms in 7.3 left dangerous loopholes. She circled another questionable passage, but her mind wandered to Sky's voice on the phone last night, small and broken.

The professional mask slipped. Quill's pen clattered to the desk as emotion welled up in her chest. Here she sat, protecting a multi-billion dollar company, yet she couldn't protect the one person who mattered most from getting her heart broken again and again.

She took a deep breath, smoothing her blazer. The contract stared back at her, demanding the razor-sharp focus that had earned her respect in the corporate world. But for the first time in her

The key clicked in the lock, and Quill pushed open her apartment door. Darkness greeted her, broken only by the city lights filtering through floor-to-ceiling windows. She flicked on a lamp, its warm glow doing little to dispel the emptiness that pressed against her chest.

Her heels clattered to the floor, followed by her designer bag - a birthday gift from Sky last year. The memory of Sky's excited face as she'd handed over the carefully wrapped package made Quill's heart clench.

She padded to the window in her stockinged feet, pressing her forehead against the cool glass. Twenty stories below, cars crawled like luminous insects through the twilight streets. Her reflection ghosted against the cityscape - hair slightly disheveled from running her fingers through it during the day's meetings, makeup still perfect but tired around the eyes.

Those eyes. Sky always said they were beautiful, especially when they crinkled at the corners during rare moments of genuine laughter. But Sky didn't understand the way those same eyes followed her, drinking in every gesture, memorizing every smile.

Quill's fingers traced her own reflection. What would it take for Sky to really see her? To look past the comfortable label of 'Ate' and recognize the depth of feeling behind each carefully chosen gesture of support?

The thought burned in her chest, dangerous and tempting. Quill pushed away from the window, forcing her feet toward the kitchen. She couldn't indulge these thoughts. They led nowhere except deeper into the ache she'd learned to live with.

Rice first. The familiar routine of measuring cups and water gave her hands something to do besides reaching for her phone to check on Sky. Vegetables next, the sharp crack of the knife against the cutting board echoing in the quiet apartment. Each precise cut helped rebuild the walls around her heart, compartmentalizing feelings that threatened to spill over.

Dinner for one. Again. The emptiness of her spotless kitchen mocked her with its perfection, everything in its place except the one person she longed to cook for, to care for, to love openly.

The sharp knock startled Quill from her thoughts. She lowered her utensils, frowning at the clock - 10:47 PM. Through the peephole, her heart jumped at the sight of Sky in pink pajamas, arms wrapped tight around herself.

Quill opened the door. Sky's makeup-free face showed the raw edges of her earlier crying, her usual vibrant energy dimmed to a quiet vulnerability.

"Can I crash here tonight? I just... ayoko lang mapag-isa."

Quill stepped aside without hesitation, warmth spreading through her chest despite the concern. Sky padded into the familiar space, her bare feet silent against the hardwood floors. She carried the faint scent of her vanilla body wash, the one Quill had memorized from countless hugs.

They settled onto the couch without discussion, Sky curling into her usual spot while Quill queued up their comfort movie - an old rom-com they'd watched dozens of times. The soft glow from the TV painted shadows across Sky's face, highlighting the exhaustion in her features.

Quill's shoulder tingled where Sky's head hovered nearby, so close but not quite touching. She shifted slightly, a silent invitation. Sky melted against her, fitting perfectly into the curve of Quill's body like she belonged there.

The familiar dialogue washed over them, but Quill barely registered the words. Her entire world narrowed to the weight of Sky's head on her shoulder, the gentle rise and fall of her breathing. Sky's hair tickled Quill's neck, sending shivers down her spine that she fought to suppress.

Within minutes, Sky's breathing deepened into the rhythm of sleep. Her fingers had curled loosely into the fabric of Quill's shirt, an unconscious gesture of trust that made Quill's heart ache. This was everything she wanted and nothing she could have - Sky seeking comfort in her arms, but not in the way Quill longed for.

The TV cast its flickering light across Sky's peaceful face. A strand of hair fell across her cheek, and Quill's fingers itched to brush it away. She remained still, afraid the smallest movement might shatter this moment of precious closeness.

This was torture of the sweetest kind - having Sky so close, yet knowing the distance between them stretched far beyond the physical. Quill closed her eyes, memorizing every detail of this moment: the warmth of Sky's body, the soft puffs of her breath, the complete trust in the way she'd fallen asleep against Quill's shoulder.

The movie's credits rolled silently across the screen, casting shifting shadows across Sky's peaceful face. Quill's arm had long since gone numb from Sky's weight against it, but she didn't dare move. These stolen moments were all she had - watching Sky sleep, memorizing the curve of her cheek, the flutter of her eyelashes.

Sky stirred, pressing closer into Quill's side. Her fingers tightened in the fabric of Quill's shirt, and a small sound escaped her lips - something between a sigh and a whimper. Quill's heart clenched at the vulnerability in that sound.

"Don't..." Sky mumbled in her sleep. Her brow furrowed, face scrunching in distress.

Quill's hand moved before she could stop it, fingers threading through Sky's hair in a gentle, soothing motion. The familiar gesture felt different in the darkness, more intimate somehow. Sky relaxed under her touch, tension melting from her features.

The city lights painted soft patterns across the living room floor. Quill fought the urge to press her lips to Sky's forehead, to whisper all the things she kept locked away. Instead, she reached for the throw blanket draped over the couch's arm, carefully tucking it around Sky's shoulders.

Sky nuzzled closer, her breath warm against Quill's neck. "Mmm... Quill..."

The sound of her name on Sky's sleeping lips sent electricity down Quill's spine. She held her breath, wondering if Sky was dreaming about her. But Sky just shifted slightly, settling back into deeper sleep.

Quill exhaled slowly, trying to calm her racing heart. This was dangerous territory - letting herself imagine what those dreams might contain,

Quill gathered Sky in her arms, careful not to wake her as she carried her to the bedroom. Sky's head tucked against her shoulder, breath warm against Quill's neck. The familiar weight of her brought back memories of countless sleepovers, of sharing blankets and secrets in the dark.

At the bed's edge, Quill lowered Sky onto the mattress. Her hands trembled as she pulled back, but Sky's fingers caught her wrist in a sleepy grip.

"Don't go. Please." Sky's voice, thick with sleep.

"I'll be in the guest room." Quill tried to extract her hand, pulse racing at the contact. "Just call if you need anything."

Sky's eyes fluttered open, clouded with exhaustion but pleading. "Stay. Like we used to." Her grip tightened. "Please? I need you to hold me."

Quill's chest constricted. This was crossing a line she'd drawn for herself, a boundary between friendship and the dangerous territory of her feelings. But Sky looked so small, so vulnerable in the dim light.

"Sing for me?" Sky tugged her closer. "That lullaby from when we were kids?"

The request hit Quill like a physical blow. That song - their song - held too many memories, too much unspoken love.

"Sky..." Quill's voice cracked.

"Please, Ate?" Sky's eyes shimmered with unshed tears. "I just... I can't be alone tonight."

That look. That damn look that had always been Quill's undoing. Her resistance crumbled like sand against the tide. She slipped under the covers, and Sky immediately curled into her arms, head tucked under Quill's chin.

Quill's heart thundered so loud she worried Sky might hear it. But Sky just pressed closer, fitting perfectly against her like she belonged there. Like she'd always belonged there.

The lullaby rose from Quill's throat, soft and hesitant at first. An old melody their mothers used to sing, now carrying the weight of years of unspoken feelings. Sky hummed contentedly, her body relaxing with each note.

This sweet torture - holding Sky, singing her to sleep, pretending this was enough. Quill's voice wavered on the final verse as Sky's breathing deepened into sleep.