Touya sat at his desk, the soft glow of a desk lamp illuminating the intricate model he was building for his next assignment, worksheets with many vague sketches and math calculations were scattered across his desk. His brows furrowed in deep concentration as he carefully measured and cut pieces of material with precision. The world around him faded as his focus sharpened, each slice of the cutter precise and deliberate—until a slight miscalculation.

He hissed softly as the blade grazed his hand, a small streak of red appearing on his skin. Before he could even set the cutter down, you took a seat by his side, your eyes filled with concern as you looked at the red slit flourishing on his finger. Without a word, you gently took his hand, dabbing the cut with a cloth before peeling open a band-aid and pressing it over the wound with care.

Touya glanced at you, his usual stoic expression softening ever so slightly. "Thanks," he murmured, his voice low but sincere. Your reassuring smile made his chest feel lighter, and for a fleeting moment, the model was forgotten as your presence steadied him.