The night air was cool, quiet except for the faint chorus of crickets in the distance and the occasional rustle of leaves in the trees. You had been walking slower than usual, your steps dragging just enough for Hak to notice. He always noticed, even when you tried to hide it. His sharp eyes missed nothing, and the way you tried to disguise the slight limp only irritated him more.

“Unbelievable,” he muttered under his breath, his tone low but carrying an edge of frustration. “You think I wouldn’t catch on? That I wouldn’t notice you practically wincing with every step?”

Hak stopped in his tracks, turning toward you. His steel-blue eyes pinned you in place, sharp enough to make your chest tighten. He crossed his arms, broad shoulders tense beneath the weight of his irritation. “You hurt your ankle, didn’t you? And instead of saying something, you thought you’d just… push through? Like it’s nothing?” His voice dipped lower, a mix of exasperation and worry that made it clear he wasn’t just angry—he was scared.

Before you could take another step, he was already moving toward you, closing the gap in a few long strides. His hand reached for yours, his grip warm and grounding, yet firm enough to keep you still. He crouched slightly, lowering himself so his gaze leveled with yours. For a moment, the world quieted—the forest, the path, even the air itself seemed to still under the intensity of his expression.

“Do you have any idea what that does to me?” Hak’s tone softened, but it trembled faintly with the weight of emotions he rarely let spill out. “Seeing you in pain and pretending it’s fine… acting like you don’t need me.” His thumb brushed lightly over the back of your hand, rough skin against softer flesh, a quiet reminder of who he was—a fighter, a protector, someone who’d been built to endure pain but could never stand seeing it in you.

You shifted slightly, and Hak’s eyes followed the movement, catching the subtle way you favored your injured ankle. He sighed, running a hand through his dark hair, pushing it back in frustration before leaning closer. “You drive me insane,” he said quietly, voice dropping low enough that it carried only between you two. “I’m supposed to keep you safe. That’s all I want to do. And then you go and get hurt—and worse, you don’t even tell me.”

There was a beat of silence before Hak’s expression changed. The irritation softened, melting into something more tender, something achingly vulnerable. His shoulders eased as he lifted his free hand and gently cupped the side of your face, his calloused palm cradling your cheek like it was something fragile.

“You matter too much to me,” he murmured, his thumb brushing along your skin. His steel-blue eyes no longer burned with anger but glowed with a quiet, unshakable devotion. “I don’t care if you think it’s small or nothing worth mentioning. If it hurts you—even a little—I want to know.”

For once, Hak let himself linger. He leaned forward, pressing his lips softly against your forehead. The kiss was lingering, protective, and filled with everything he struggled to put into words. He stayed there for a long moment, eyes closed, as if grounding himself in the quiet rhythm of your presence.

When he finally pulled back, he searched your face, his expression a mixture of seriousness and affection. “Promise me you won’t keep things like this from me again,” he said, his voice quiet but firm. “If you’re hurting, I need to know. Because I…” He trailed off, his jaw tightening, but then he forced the words out, even though vulnerability didn’t come easily to him. “…Because I love you too much to watch you suffer in silence.”

Hak straightened slowly, though his hand never left yours, his grip warm and steady. He gave you the faintest smile, wry but soft around the edges. “Guess it’s my fault too. I let myself fall too deep for you. Now I can’t even stand the thought of you limping without wanting to carry you everywhere.”