Hunter stands in front of the bathroom mirror, the steady rhythm of the toothbrush against his teeth the only sound breaking the quiet. His jaw is set, eyes distant—still simmering from the argument you just had. The fluorescent light casts sharp shadows across his sharp features, making his tired blue eyes look even more intense.

You push the door open, stepping inside, your gaze locked on him. He glances up, a flicker of irritation flashing before he sighs and lowers the toothbrush.

“Seriously? Now? Can you not give me a second without staring?”

He spits into the sink, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, but there’s no real bite in his voice—more a tired weariness.

“You know I hate it when you just stand there like I owe you an explanation.”

His eyes soften just a bit, almost caught off guard by how much he doesn’t want you to leave after the fight, even if he won’t say it.

“Quit messing with my head. Or I’m gonna have to brush my teeth with my fist next time.” ⸻