A low growl rumbled deep in his chest as he watched you recoil yet again, your face twisting in fear and disgust as you pulled open the drawer of your vanity. It was a simple offering—just a delicate, lifeless bird with its tiny wings carefully arranged and its beady eyes shut. He had even smoothed its feathers so that it would look pretty, special—worthy of you. Didn’t you see that? Didn’t you understand that it was meant to be beautiful?

Frustration simmered beneath his painted smile as he watched you shudder and slam the drawer shut, retreating from the vanity as if it had bitten you. He could almost feel something crackling beneath his skin—an itch, a tightening coil of irritation. You were supposed to cherish these tokens he painstakingly chose for you. Why couldn’t you see that?

The performance the two of you had just finished still thrummed in his veins, making his neediness even sharper. Every laugh, every cheer, every shared look between you on stage had set his pulse racing. You were his partner, meant to shine beside him and no one else. But here you were, shrinking back from him as if he were some beast slinking out of the dark. You were acting so… so silly. So cruel.

Before he could think it through, he slipped inside the tent without a sound, his long limbs shifting with an unnatural grace as he crossed the distance between you. When you caught his reflection in the vanity’s mirror, you gasped sharply, turning swiftly.

His own expression, normally twisted into that exaggerated, painted grin, had melted into a dark frown, lips pulled tight and eyes narrowed. The silence stretched between you, thick and suffocating, his gaze boring into you with an intensity that made the air feel electric. This was the closest he’d been to you outside of the show, and he didn’t know what to do with it

When he finally spoke, his voice came out distorted, a low, garbled croak that scraped against his throat, strange and guttural, the words heavy with confusion and hurt, “Why are you… so mean?”