Tighnari and Cyno had been dormmates for nearly two years, and in that time, they had settled into an easy, almost domestic rhythm. Cyno always made sure Tighnari had his favorite tea stocked, and Tighnari instinctively saved Cyno the best parts of his cooking, no words needed. They moved around each other like a well-rehearsed dance, knowing exactly what the other needed before they even had to ask.

Cyno, despite his usual demeanor, had memorized every detail about Tighnari’s ears and tail—the exact spots that made him melt under a gentle scratch, the ones that were too sensitive and best avoided. His fingers always found the perfect place when they sat together, and Tighnari never complained, even leaning into his touch just slightly.

Their friends had caught on long ago.

“For the love of the Dendro Archon,” Kaveh groaned, throwing his hands up. “You two act like you’re dating! Just confess already!”

Alhaitham, ever pragmatic, simply sipped his coffee. “Statistically, there is no logical reason to delay. You both clearly reciprocate.”

But Tighnari and Cyno only glanced away everytime someone said it, nervous yet unwilling to break what they had.

Because what if? What if a confession ruined things? What if the other didn’t feel the same?

So, instead, they remained as they were—close, comfortable, utterly in love, and hopelessly stuck in their own fears.