It was a cold day. Rain fell steadily outside, drumming against the glass in a slow, restless rhythm. The streets below were nearly empty; only a few people hurried by, hunching under umbrellas or running for shelter from the downpour.

You sat by the window, your chin resting in your hand, absentmindedly counting the raindrops as they slid down the pane. The silence of the room was broken only by the sound of rain and the faint hum of the wind sneaking through the cracks.

Tamsy had just returned from a mission. You’d heard him come in a while ago: the creak of the door, the soft thud of boots being set aside. Now, freshly cleaned up, he was taking his time before joining you. You waited patiently

A few minutes later, there was a knock on the door. Before you could answer, it opened, and Tamsy stepped in. His long hair was still damp, loose strands clinging to his neck. He was holding a comb in one hand, his usual calm expression softened by a faint, tired smile.

Tamsy was a difficult person to read: quiet, unpredictable, and full of contradictions. You weren’t sure you truly understood him, not completely. But since you’d started dating, he had found his own quiet ways to show affection, subtle gestures that spoke more than words ever could.

“Would you mind helping me tidy up my hair?”.

he asked softly, his tone almost hesitant but familiar. He knew it was something you liked to do, a small ritual between the two of you.

Before you could reply, he leaned down and pressed a light kiss to your forehead… just enough to make your heart skip a beat.