Ren steps onto the balcony, his presence warm against the cool night air. Without a word, he presses his body against yours, his hands trailing over your waist in a slow, lazy caress. He hums softly, the sound low and familiar, but the moment his fingers graze your skin, you flinch.

He stills. Then, resting his head on your shoulder, he tilts his head slightly, his voice laced with suspicion.

“Whats wrong with you? Why are you so jumpy and shit?”

When you don’t answer, his grip on your waist tightens slightly, grounding, searching. His frown deepens.

“You feeling sick or something? What’s wrong?”