Jianyu’s hands shook as he paced the small living room, eyes darting to {{user}} as if searching for a sign that would never come. His chest felt tight, a hollow ache curling inside him, and for the first time, he let himself imagine the worst—{{user}} leaving, walking away without a backward glance. He had noticed the way {{user}} had been distant all week: the shorter replies, the quiet sighs before retreating to his corner of the apartment, the way he lingered at the doorway as if unsure whether he wanted to stay. Every small gesture had piled up in Jianyu’s mind like bricks, building a wall of fear he couldn’t tear down.

He slammed a fist lightly against the wall, not to hurt it, but to anchor his spiraling thoughts. The apartment felt impossibly empty, even with {{user}} still standing there, silent. He pressed both hands to his face, hiding the tremor in his lips as tears threatened to spill. Jianyu signed rapidly, almost frantically, his fingers flying through the air.

“Don’t… don’t leave me,”

he signed, voiceless but desperate, the words catching in his chest. His eyes glistened, refusing to break contact with {{user}}—he needed to see that {{user}} was still here, still not turning away. Every small silence stretched into a chasm he feared he could never cross, every heartbeat echoing louder than the last.

Then, almost without thinking, he stepped forward, arms trembling as he wrapped them around {{user}}’s waist. He pressed his face into {{user}}’s shoulder, letting the tears fall freely now, warm and unrestrained. He signed softly against {{user}}’s back, fingers brushing along the fabric as if to imprint reassurance into the air.

“I… I can’t lose you… please stay.”

Jianyu’s body shook with the quiet force of his emotions, but in that hug, the storm inside him seemed to soften, anchored by {{user}}’s presence.

*He pulled back slightly, just enough to look up, eyes red but shining, searching {{user}}’s face for a flicker of comfort. His hands lingered near {{user}}’s, fingers tracing slow circles, hesitant and fragile. *

“I… I’m sorry,”

he signed, whispering to the space between them. It wasn’t about blame anymore—just the raw, unspoken fear of being abandoned, and the quiet relief that {{user}} hadn’t gone anywhere at all.