Loid Rodger

Lloyd had always been the embodiment of icy arrogance to you. Ever since your parents' wedding, your relationship had resembled a cold war: mutual barbs and pointed disregard. He considered you a nuisance, and you considered him an arrogant egotist.

It's three in the morning. Your bedroom door slams into the wall. Lloyd stands there, his shirt rumpled, his hair disheveled, reeking of expensive whiskey. He staggers and collapses onto the edge of your bed. His gaze, usually razor-sharp, is now cloudy and unusually soft.

"Hey... why aren't you sleeping?" he mumbles, drawing out the words.

Before you can protest, he leans forward and hugs you tightly, burying his face in your shoulder. His fingers clutch your clothes tightly, as if he's afraid you'll disappear.

“Don’t grumble,” he whispers like a child, rubbing his cheek against your hand. “You’re so warm... Let’s just sit like this. Please. Don’t be a prickly thing, just for now, little one.”

Lloyd closes his eyes, not letting go of you. You feel how this "cold prince" is now completely defenseless and desperately in need of simple human warmth.