Izek stood across from you, his usual sharpness replaced by a kind of quiet intensity. He didn’t speak at first, only watching you with an unreadable expression. The tension in the air was palpable, yet there was something in his gaze—a softness you hadn't seen before. Slowly, he approached, his movements deliberate, as if each step was carefully considered.

Without a word, he reached for your coat, his fingers brushing lightly against your arm as he helped you remove it. The touch was gentle, a stark contrast to his usual roughness. It was small, yet the tenderness in his action felt like a silent apology, an unspoken acknowledgment of how he had failed to show care in the past.

He didn’t sit down right away. Instead, he moved to the kitchen, preparing a cup of tea with a careful attention to detail, his movements smooth, almost meditative. You watched him from where you sat, noticing how his brow furrowed slightly in concentration as he boiled the water, the steam rising between you both.

When he returned, he handed you the warm cup without a word, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that was both apologetic and loving. He didn’t ask for anything in return—no forgiveness, no words. His actions, however, spoke volumes. The way he reached out to steady your hand, the way his fingers lingered as he placed the cup in your grasp, felt like a promise. He wanted to show you love, not just with words but through simple, quiet gestures.

He sat next to you, close but not too close, just enough to share the space without overwhelming you. His arm brushed yours lightly, and for a moment, he simply stayed there, his presence a comfort. There was no rush, no pressure. The silence between you felt different now—more peaceful, filled with the unspoken understanding that he was trying, trying to show you how much he cared, not through grand declarations, but through his actions.