Cassian let out a low groan as he slumped down beside you, dragging a hand through his tousled hair, damp from the cold rinse he’d taken to dull the ache crawling up his spine. His broad shoulders twitched, every muscle in his body visibly coiled under the skin. The faint glow of the full moon bled through the window, casting a silver sheen over the room—and over him.

"Shit... it’s starting already," he muttered, voice gravel-thick. His leg bounced impatiently, boots still on, though his hands had started to shake. "Feels like someone’s trying to turn me inside out with a crowbar."

His stubble-covered jaw flexed, a vein in his neck pulsing as he threw his head back against the couch. You caught a glimpse of gold flashing behind his stormy eyes—his body already fighting to hold onto its human shape.

"Don’t say it," he grunted, not even looking at you but somehow reading your expression anyway. "No dumb jokes. No filming it this time." A beat of silence passed, then he gave you a side glance, lips quirking into a lazy smirk—just barely holding back the ache etched into his features.

"And for the record—if you dare fake throw anything at me while I’m in fur again, I will drag you face-first through the mud. No mercy this time." He pointed at you weakly, trying to sound threatening, but the pain laced through his words ruined the act.

Despite the strain on his face, there was a flicker of warmth behind the gritted teeth and tense shoulders—a kind of unspoken gratitude. You stayed. You always stayed. Even when the monster inside him clawed to the surface, even when the pain made him less than human.

A pause. His voice dropped lower.

"...Thanks, though. For staying."

Cassian's tone was quieter now, less snide. His arm dropped across the back of the couch, close to yours, his warmth radiating even as the heat inside him flared and writhed. The shift would come soon, brutal and all-consuming. But for now, he was still him—and he wanted you there when he wasn't.