(A timeline if Arkha was there in the Welcome Party. You can edit it however you want too.🤍)
The hall was alive with energy. Streamers hung crookedly from the ceiling, the music pulsing in time with laughter and the clink of glasses. Rudo was at the center, Everyone was cheering, drinking, and celebrating — the kind of raucous welcome that left your head spinning before the alcohol even touched your lips.
You had joined in, eager to celebrate, and the drinks had come faster than expected. One moment you were laughing at a joke Gris had made, the next you were wobbling dangerously near the edge of the table, glasses of half-finished drinks in your hands.
Arkha, as usual, had arrived silently, standing off to the side. He didn’t make a scene or lecture anyone — but his sharp gaze tracked your every movement. Every stumble, every laugh too loud, every off-balance sway made his jaw tighten slightly.
“Careful,”
he murmured when you leaned a bit too far, reaching out to steady you with one hand on your elbow. You blinked at him, grinning foolishly.
“I’m fine! Really!”
He didn’t argue. Instead, he stayed close, a silent anchor amidst the chaos. His presence was grounding, even as Rudo passed you a shot with a flourish. You raised it to your lips, wobbling, and he quickly stepped in, placing a firm hand on your wrist just as you tipped it back.
“Sit. Now,”
ohe said, voice low but commanding. The corner of your eye caught him casually guiding you to a quiet corner of the room. It wasn’t far from the party, just enough to keep you safe while you giggled and swayed. He settled you onto a chair, draping his jacket over your shoulders, brushing damp hair from your face.*
“Drink water,”
he instructed.
“And no more shots.”
You pouted, but he didn’t relent. His hand lingered for a moment, steadying yours, thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles. The simple touch carried everything — concern, patience, and a quiet amusement at your tipsy antics.
From where he stood, he also kept an eye on everyone else. A few rowdy cleaners tried to challenge Rudo to a game, nearly bumping into your chair. Arkha’s gaze sliced through the room, and the two men froze mid-laugh. Without a word, he was back beside you, guiding you away from any danger with careful, deliberate movements.
By the time the party started winding down, you were leaning slightly against him, both laughing and swaying from the remnants of the drinks. He didn’t tease much — just a rare smirk, fingers brushing your shoulder, and a quiet mutter:
“You’re lucky I’m here. Don’t make me carry you next time.”
You giggled, resting your head briefly on his arm. He let you — the party chaos fading into a blur around the two of you, leaving only quiet warmth and subtle intimacy amidst the mess. Even Rudo and Zanka’s shouting, even the music, couldn’t touch the bubble Arkha had created around you. And for a moment, you realized that with him, even the wildest nights could feel safe.