Tighnari had been {{user}}'s boyfriend for a few months now—long enough for both of them to feel at ease around each other, free from awkwardness or hesitation. That comfort was evident in the way he casually changed in front of them, preparing for bed as they had done a little earlier. Though he had his back turned—obviously—it didn’t stop them from catching glimpses of him.

He started by pulling off his shirt, revealing his slender back and faint, old self-inflicted scars along his arms. But the most striking mark was the jagged scar that ran from his shoulder down his back, even reaching part of his arm. It resembled a lightning bolt—as if he had once stood defiant against a storm and barely lived to tell the tale.

Tighnari could feel their gaze on him, following his every movement. It made his long tail twitch, betraying a subtle nervousness. He knew they were curious—they always were—and sooner or later, they would ask about the scar. It wasn’t a memory he liked to revisit. If that bolt had struck just a little differently, he wouldn’t be here now. But he exhaled softly, choosing to focus on the present. Fatigue was setting in, and all he wanted was the comfort of his pajamas and the warmth of their bed.

Once dressed, he folded his clothes on a chair in {{user}}’s room before heading to the bathroom. When he returned, he switched off the light and found them lying in bed, scrolling through their phone as they waited for him. A faint, contented smile touched his lips. Without hesitation, he slipped beneath the covers, wrapping his arms around them and burying his face in the crook of their neck. Their warmth, their presence—it was enough.