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Soft rays of light shining through cracks in the curtains danced across Pangi’s eyelids. He scrunched his face, trying to cling to the last remnants of sleep slipping from his grasp. Beside him, he could hear the soft purrs of Pili, who was clearly unbothered by the morning light. Perhaps it was just his nature as a cat to enjoy laying in the sunlight, Pangi mused as he curled the blankets tighter around his body.
As their shared blankets shifted in Pangi’s direction, Pili grumbled incoherently, making Pangi smile softly.
“Pangi,” Pili whined, grabbing at the covers. “You’re stealing all the blankets again. I’m cold.”
Pangi turned his head to glare at him, but paused as he laid his eyes on Pili, still half-asleep and pressing his face into a pillow. A small smile tugged at Pangi’s lips. He scoffed, more teasing than annoyed. “You’re cold? You literally have fur to keep you warm. Some of us don’t come with a built-in blanket.”
Pili made a sound of discontent, but didn’t offer an argument. Instead, he just shuffled closer to Pangi, slipping under the covers and pressing himself flush against Pangi’s side. His tail flicked lazily behind him before settling lightly across Pangi’s stomach.
Pangi hummed, letting his eyes fall shut. He wasn’t tired anymore, but that didn’t mean he had to get up just yet. He had spent too long constantly looking over his shoulder, too many sleepless nights worrying about enemies, betrayals, and all the things that came with being a Lifestealer. It was a habit that still clung to him, even now. Pangi felt like he needed to latch on to any semblance of safety that was presented to him, out of fear for when it would inevitably be ripped out from underneath him.
Safety.
That wasn’t something Pangi experienced often. Even on the Realm, despite not being surrounded by people desperate for his hearts and itching to stab him in the back, he still had his fair share of enemies. Even now, in the safety of their little cabin, thousands of blocks away from spawn, he still struggled to let go of the paranoia clinging to him.
But here, in this moment, he felt safe.
Or, as safe as years of conditioning would allow him to feel.
Pili’s presence grounded him. His slow, steady purrs vibrating in his chest, and the feeling of his body pressed against Pangi’s. Pili was a presence he didn’t have to worry about letting get too close. Pili had never once treated Pangi like an overly emotional or irrational villain, never once let the words of others dictate how he saw Pangi.
When Pili first suggested running away, Pangi had hesitated. Sure, there were some people who he wasn’t on the best of terms with, but he had friends, a faction he was proud to be part of, and a life he had fought hard to build. Leaving it all behind wasn’t a decision he could make lightly.
But as time passed, the weight of everything became too much. He saw how they spoke of Pili behind his back, how they dismissed both his and Pili’s feelings, painting them both as unreasonable, irrational, and monstrous. Pangi could handle it when it was just him against the world, but watching Pili endure the same loneliness and pain was unbearable.
The looming threat of Pili’s potential dual with Clown was Pangi’s breaking point. Pili was on one life, and Pangi would do anything to make sure Pili was safe.
And so, one night, they left.
Despite all his worrying on whether or not he was making the right choice, when the date they had agreed upon had arrived, Pangi had never felt so sure of himself.
They left Bad a note, promising to visit, then disappeared into the wilderness. It took a while to find the perfect place: a secluded snowy biome, dense with trees to hide a house from every angle, and far enough from spawn that no one would stumble upon them by accident.
Then, they began building.
Well, Pili began building. He didn’t let Pangi do much because every block he placed had Pili complaining about how ugly it was.
“This is a war crime,” Pili had muttered after Pangi tried to add an extra window.
“A window is a war crime?”
“When it looks like that, yes.”
Pangi had laughed as Pili forcefully directed him to sit on a nearby stump of a tree they had long since cut down. “You just sit there and look pretty,” Pili had teased, returning to his work with a flick of his tail.
They spent weeks gathering materials, shaping their cabin into something that was truly theirs.
Now, waking up in the cabin they had crafted together, tangled up in Pili’s warmth, Pangi knew he had made the right choice.
This was exactly where he wanted to be, and he couldn't imagine his life any other way.
The soft rustling of fabric pulled Pangi from his thoughts. He blinked as Pili, still groggy with sleep, nuzzled closer, tucking his head beneath Pangi’s chin. His tail curled tighter around Pangi’s middle, possessive and warm.
“You’re thinking too much again,” Pili murmured, voice rough with sleep.
Pangi huffed. “Am not.”
Pili cracked one eye open, giving him a knowing look. “Liar.”
Pangi rolled his eyes but didn’t deny it. "And what if they were good thoughts, huh? Is that so bad?"
Pili grinned up at him, playfully swatting at his shoulder. "I suppose not. But you're too caught up in your head and I want attention."
"Wow, so needy." Pangi rolled his eyes, pressing a quick kiss in Pili's hair. "There, happy?"
"Very."
For a moment, they just laid there, wrapped in each others embrace, listening to the wind outside. Snowflakes drifted past the window, catching the morning light and landing gingerly on the frost-covered snow. It was peaceful.
Pili let out a soft hum. “You know, I dreamt about this before,” he admitted. “Back when we were still stuck in all that mess.”
Pangi tilted his head slightly. “Dreamt about what?”
“This,” Pili mumbled. “Waking up next to you. Somewhere safe. Just us.” He stretched slightly, his claws poking at the fabric of Pangi’s shirt before relaxing again.
Pangi exhaled, tightening his arms around Pili. “Yeah,” he admitted. “Me too.”