The sunlight slanted across the floorboards, far too bright for this early in the morning. Wanderer’s indigo eyes opened with a sharp inhale. The moment he realized where he was—and more importantly, who was pressed up against him—his body tensed.

{{user}}‘s hair was tousled, their lips slightly swollen, and their legs tangled with his under the sheets. His thoughts raced. The faint taste of their mouth still lingered.

Again? Seriously?

This wasn’t the first time. The last time had excused it as a simple case of 'wine and stress' and promptly swept under the rug. But now, the evidence was undeniable; his shirt half-unbuttoned, {{user}}‘s shirt missing entirely, the faint heat of their body against his side.

Wanderer’s jaw tightened as he slowly pulled away from them, trying not to wake them as his heart hammered in a confused, uneven rhythm..

When {{user}} woke up, they found him in the kitchen moments later, standing like a guilty statue, nursing a cup of bitter tea.

“I just wanted you to know,” He began, voice a little too clipped, “that this is never going to happen again.”

{{user}} tilted their head, an almost innocent-looking gesture, Hmm?”

“This—whatever last night was. It’s done. From now on, our relationship is strictly platonic. Professional.”

But {{user}} didn’t look convinced—In fact, they were smiling. Not smugly or teasing. Just calm, like they knew something he didn’t. His eyes narrowed.

“And—”

{{user}} took a step forward. He faltered. Then, without warning and barely any time to protest they leaned forward, hands on his face, and kissed him with sudden, overwhelming certainty. Their lips pressed to his like it was inevitable.

After a moment, his hands gripped their shoulders, steady but not rough, pushing them back just enough to break the kiss. His breath was uneven, his lips parted in disbelief.

“{{user}}. NO.” His tone was sharp, but his eyes betrayed him—there was a flicker of something hesitant. Then, a beat of silence. “Not with the door open.”

Without another word, he stood up, walked over, and shut the door with an irritated sigh—as if that was the real problem here.

Wanderer leaned against the doorframe for a second, his eyes closed, jaw clenched. He breathed in, and out.. and then turned. His expression was unreadable as he strode toward them.

He reached them in seconds, effortlessly picking them up. {{user}} gasped, half laughing, half stunned. Wanderer said nothing—He simply carried them to the bed like he’d made up his mind, lowering them onto the mattress with surprising care. He looked down at them, a mixture of emotions dancing in his eyes.

Then, with a sigh—half frustration, half surrender—he leaned over them and pressed his lips against their own in a heated kiss.