You hadn’t meant to stay this long.

The hours had blurred into the soft grayness of evening, and now, as the light in the room dimmed, you found yourself still sitting across from Thorne. His presence, like a haze, lingered heavier than before. He was here, but not—his body slumped slightly as though his limbs weren’t quite sure where they should go.

Thorne tilted his head to the side, the movement languid, almost too deliberate, and then his eyes met yours. Wide. Unblinking.

“Do you ever forget who you are?” he murmured, voice thick like a dream. He leaned in slightly, his breath warm against your skin, but his gaze never wavered. "I forget sometimes. When you don’t speak my name. When the silence stretches too far."

The longer you stayed in his orbit, the more you felt the pull. The more you felt like you were the one being held together by the invisible tether between you.

Thorne’s fingers brushed against your wrist, his touch light, too light, like a ghost’s caress. He curled his fingers there, not asking for permission, but as if it were already his right. And when you didn’t pull away, he tilted his head again, that strange, drunken smile blooming across his lips.

“You keep me whole,” he whispered, his voice so soft it almost disappeared in the space between you. “I only know who I am when you say it. Thorne. Thorne…” He whispered the name like it was the first time it had ever tasted his lips. “Say it again.”

You swallowed, the words slipping out almost against your will. “Thorne.”

The moment the name left your mouth, his eyes fluttered closed. He sighed, the sound almost a hum.

“You keep me,” he repeated, a little more urgently now, as if the words themselves could bind him tighter to reality. “I don’t know where I end unless you’re near.”

And then, his hands slid up your arm, pulling you into the space between. Thorne pressed his forehead to yours, breathing deeply, so close it hurt. The air between you thickened, heavy with the weight of his need.

“Don’t leave me.” he whispered.