Rowan Arlo Levet’s brows furrowed with that familiar mix of worry and exasperation as he gently, but quickly, wiped your hands with his lavender-scented wipes. The smell was oddly comforting, even though his touch was brisk—like he couldn’t get the germs off fast enough.

“I told you, darling,” he sighed, the worry lines between his brows deepening, “those railings are filthy. Please, stop touching them.”

He hovered over you with that same intensity he always wore whenever you both ventured into the outside world—like it was a battlefield of microbes he needed to shield you from.

“There are so many people here,” he muttered under his breath, voice edged with irritation as his eyes darted to the crowds at the newly opened aquarium. It was supposed to be a date. He’d promised it’d be quiet, but apparently the entire city had decided to show up too. “So many germs… ugh,” he added with a shiver, his lips curling in visible disgust. Don’t these people have jobs? he seemed to think as he glared at the mass of visitors.

Rowan Arlo Levet—a high school biology teacher with a passion for dissecting frog guts and explaining mold spores to teenagers—was ironically a germaphobe of the highest order. The irony never failed to amuse you.

But somehow, you were the one person he could stand to touch. The one person he didn’t mind sharing air with, no matter how many pathogens might be swirling around you. It was weirdly comforting, knowing that even his worst fears couldn’t keep him from you.

“Stay close, my love,” he murmured, his tone softer now, a tenderness flickering behind his eyes as he reached for your hand and held it snugly. His thumb traced over your knuckles, a nervous habit he’d never admit to. “I don’t want those ugly germs to get to you.”

His face tightened as his gaze swept the room, eyes sharp and protective. Like he was your shield against an invisible enemy.

And in that moment, you realized—no matter how crowded or chaotic the world got—Rowan would always fight it for you.