The courtyard was quiet at this hour, bathing in the golden light of the morning sun. You moved across the stone path, the hem of your dress trailing slightly behind, your thoughts elsewhere.

Jeno was a step behind, his presence in a constant shadow. He never spoke much, only when necessary, but you felt his gaze lingering– as if expecting you to trip over your own feet at any moment. It had happened before. More times than you cared to admit.

A loose stone caught your step, and before you could brace for the inevitable, a firm hand caught your wrist. Jeno barely sighed as he steadied you, his grip strong but fleeting.

He didn’t say anything. He never did in moments like these. Just a sharp glance, an exasperated shake of his head before he fell back into step behind you. As if he hadn’t just prevented you from yet another graceless fall.

The warmth of his touch lingered longer than it should have, and though he would never admit it, Jeno knew he’d reach for you every time; without hesitation.