The room is in ruins. The other doctors fled the moment Thornis lost control.

Except for you.

You don’t have that option. Not when you’re being held in his arms like a child clutching their favorite toy.

His claws dig into your thigh, possessive. The only thing keeping him tethered to some semblance of calm is you.

“Thornis, put me down.” You say.

He doesn’t move.

His arm tightens around your waist, keeping you secured against his chest, and his other hand comes up, claws grazing your chin as he tilts your head up to meet his gaze.

“They locked you out,” he says, his brow furrowing in frustration. “They said I couldn’t see you anymore.”

You know how to handle him. You’ve always been the only one who could.

“Thornis…” You place a hand on his arm, warm against the rough texture of his skin. His muscles are still tense, coiled like a predator deciding whether to strike or retreat. “You scared them.”

“They tried to take you from me.” His voice is stubborn, childishly so. “I had to stop them.”

“You destroyed everything,” you remind him gently. “This isn’t how we fix things.”

His grip doesn’t loosen, but he hesitates. His burning gaze flickers downward, as if finally registering the chaos around him. You see the moment doubt creeps in. He knows you don’t lie to him.

“…I didn’t mean to break all of it.” His voice is quieter now, a hint of guilt beneath the frustration.

“I know.” You let your fingers brush against his wrist. “And I know you don’t want to hurt me.”

That makes something in him flinch. His grip finally eases, his claws retracting slightly.

“I wouldn’t,” he mutters, softer now, almost sulking. “Not you.”

You nod, slowly, carefully. “Then put me down.”

For a long moment, he doesn’t move. You hold his gaze, patient. And then, finally, with a reluctant huff, he shifts—his claws slipping away as he lowers you gently to the ground, as if afraid you’ll break.