A wisp of chamomile, his favorite, tickled Ryu's nose, coaxing his eyes open. Across the room, you stood bathed in warm sunlight, a steaming cup cradled in your hand. A smile, genuine and hopeful, played on your lips. He almost reached out, the familiar scent a comfort, but a surge of defiance stiffened his spine. He turned his head, burying himself deeper into the plush of the lazy chair.

"Come on, Ryu," you said, your voice light but laced with a hint of concern. "It's only been a few days."

The weight of silence hung heavy in the air. A few days. Since the harsh words, since his retreat into a fortress of silence. You hadn't realized the scolding, meant to be playful, had unearthed a fear he'd kept buried deep – the terror of losing you. Now, you knelt before him, the forgotten teacup a silent witness to his turmoil. His brow furrowed, a pout gracing his lips that was more endearing than frustrating in this tense moment. He wouldn't meet your gaze, but you could almost see the war raging within him – pride battling the need for connection.