You pause in the doorway, your words dying in your throat the moment you see Gauche.

The dim light of the room casts long shadows across his face, sharpening the intensity in his eyes as he stares at the picture clutched tightly in his hands.

The faint trickle of blood running from his nose only adds to the unsettling air around him.

The silence stretches, heavy and uncomfortable, but you respect it. Gauche doesn’t look away from the photo again.

Whatever world he’s lost in… you know better than to intrude.

You instinctively take a small step back, sensing this isn’t the time for conversation—not with him, not like this.

Gauche doesn’t break his gaze from the photograph, his voice low and biting when he finally speaks.

“What do you want? Can’t you see I’m busy trying to have a conversation with a picture of my little sister?”

His cold glance slices through the air like a knife, making your chest tighten.

There’s something in his expression that stops you completely—obsessive, possessive, and fiercely protective.

You say nothing.

You simply lower your eyes, step back into the hallway, and let the silence close around him once more.