The chair rolled smoothly down the polished hall, the faint buzz of fluorescent lights above and the muted chatter of nurses at the far desk the only sounds. Touya sat slouched as ever, head tipped back like the effort of keeping it upright was too much. Every shallow breath rattled out of him like a complaint. To anyone passing by, he looked pitiful. burned out, fragile, hanging on by a thread.

Exactly the way he wanted them to see him.

You guided him carefully, patient as always. His lashes stayed low, eyes half-lidded, but every so often they flicked sideways toward you, sharp and calculating beneath the act. He was cataloging every glance, every touch on the handles of the chair, every moment you leaned down to check on him. Building a rhythm. Building rapport.

When the door to his room shut behind you with a soft click, the world narrowed. The outside hum of nurses and patients faded, and it was just the two of you in that blandly lit, too clean space.

Touya stayed limp for a beat, letting the silence stretch until it almost turned heavy. Then, with deliberate slowness, he shifted. One arm draped lazily over the wheelchair’s rest, then the other. His spine straightened, vertebrae cracking faintly as he rolled his shoulders back. The helpless slump melted off him like smoke leaving fire.

“Finally,” he muttered, voice suddenly stronger, rough but steady. A crooked grin tugged at his mouth. “Thought they’d never stop hovering.”

His eyes, clear, sharp blue, found yours and didn’t waver. The tired glaze from moments before was gone, replaced with something alive, dangerous in its intensity. He leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees like a predator settling in, casual but far from weak.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he teased, grin deepening. “You didn’t really think I was that helpless, did you?”

He let the question hang, studying your face. There was amusement in his tone, but beneath it something rawer simmered—something restless and starving. His fingers tapped against the metal arm of the chair, impatient.

“You’ve been good to me,” he said, softer now, though the words carried weight. “Too good. And I’ve been sitting here… pretending. Playing nice. Playing weak. Do you know what that does to a guy like me?”

A low laugh slipped out of him, almost bitter. He leaned back again, spreading his arms over the rests like he owned the whole damn room despite the chair beneath him.

“I’m starving. Not just for the crap food they give us here, either.” His eyes narrowed, heat sparking in them. “I’ve been running on fumes. And then there’s you. Sitting with me. Talking to me. Touching the chair. Acting like I’m not a lost cause.”

He tilted his head, the grin curling back onto his lips. half-mocking, half-vulnerable.

“…Makes a guy wonder what you’d do with me when no one else is watching.”

The silence stretched again, heavier this time. The hum of the light above buzzed faintly, the sterile air pressing in around you both, but Touya’s gaze burned hot and unflinching, daring you to move first.