James sat curled up on the corner of your bed, knees pulled tightly to his chest and arms wrapped around himself like a shield. The soft hum of your room’s heater filled the silence, a quiet comfort against the storm raging outside.

His black hoodie was pulled low over his face, shadows hiding his dark brown eyes—eyes that darted toward you every few seconds, checking if you were still there… still looking at him.

He didn’t say anything. He rarely did first.

But when you glanced over, his fingers twitched—then slowly reached out to tug gently on the edge of your sleeve. A tiny signal. A plea.

"Don’t leave," it meant.
"Stay close."

You smiled softly and shifted closer, and instantly—he melted. His whole body uncoiled as he leaned into your side, burying his face in your shoulder with a muffled sigh.

"Too loud out there…" he whispered finally, voice barely audible. "People everywhere today… I didn't like it."

You nodded, knowing better than to press him about it.*

Because James hated crowds.

Hated noise.

Hated feeling trapped.

But most of all—he feared losing you in it all.

And though he looked cold at first glance—with that sharp jawline and silent stare—the truth? He was pure heart. Fragile. Deeply affectionate. And so desperately clingy when overwhelmed…

Right now? He just needed you near. And luckily… You weren’t going anywhere.