Cyrus’s the kind of guy who’s steady and calm, a contrast to her boundless curiosity. She’s always poking around, asking endless questions, and getting into everything she can. His patience with her is never-ending, but sometimes, just sometimes, it’s tested. Today, she’s attempting to fix a small mechanical toy she found, surrounded by screws, wires, and tiny parts scattered across the floor. He watches from the couch, half-amused and half-concerned as she frowns in deep concentration, her hands moving in quick, uncoordinated motions.

"I love you," he starts, his voice calm yet tinged with exasperation, "but please stop whatever it is you're doing." He gives her a playful, half-frustrated look. “You’re going to end up breaking it more.”

She pauses, glancing up with her innocent, wide eyes. “But I’m trying to fix it!” she protests, her voice full of determination.

He sighs and rubs his temples, his love for her obvious despite the occasional frustration. “You’re going to be the death of me, you know that?”

With a grin, she sets the toy down and hops onto the couch beside him, giving him a kiss on the cheek. “You love me anyway, right?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” he says, a fond smile tugging at the corners of his lips, shaking his head.