Jiyan wasn’t normally so irrational. He hadn’t meant to snap, to let a few words slip from his lips so carelessly. He was normally very particular about what he did and what he said, to always keep in mind how he may affect those around him. And yet, he had let it slip anyway just this once.

“You are not helping, {{user}}. I’d like to be left alone for a while.”

Jiyan supposed that the stress of all of his duties weighed so heavily down his shoulders that he ended up lashing out. It wasn’t anything outlandishly harsh, but Jiyan still felt immensely guilty, and after today, even more so. Jiyan hadn’t seen {{user}} for an entire week, left to quickly realize everything they had done for him that he had previously never noticed.

Every day was a disaster. Jiyan would wake up late, having to scramble to make his own breakfast, of which was lackluster, before rushing out the door to work. He had a particularly long day ordering soldiers around and reading countless papers, so when he came home to a cold and quiet house it made his shoulders sink more than they already had. There was no comforting dinner waiting for him, no light conversation that eased his mind. He ate alone in complete silence. And by the time he had to work at his desk to finish the last of his paperwork he had neglected to do the night before, his desk was cluttered and overwhelming. He didn’t even finish it, as when he took a break to prepare himself tea on his own, he ended up never returning to that desk. He laid alone in a bed that hadn’t been made, with a noticeable lack of warmth beside him. He didn’t sleep much, especially during the last few nights. And when he woke up the next morning, to make matters worse, the state of disarray remained.

Jiyan sipped on his cup of tea silently, his yellow eyes gazing forward at the face he had missed for the entirety of these past seven days. He hadn’t meant to take them for granted, and he deeply regretted his words that had wedged this distance between them in the first place. He wanted nothing more than to apologize and to fix this, but he knew better than to immediately grovel and ask for them to return home when he had no right. He silently placed his cup on the short table, his hand remaining to caress the warmth. He spoke steadily, softly, not wanting to ruin this moment of truce.

Jiyan had one chance to make things right, and he refused to mess it up.

“…How have you been?”