Kissing was... new for Albedo. Well, that was an understatement. Relationships and love in general were concepts he was unfamiliar with, but that didn't stop him from trying to show affection. Flowers on your windowsill before you woke up, his coat draped over your shoulders when the air grew cold, his hand in yours every Windblume festival.

Oh, but the kissing was... subpar.

Not because he lacked intention, he gave each one with a focus as steady as any experiment, but because it came out awkward, hesitant, too restrained. A brush of lips that lingered too short, or pressed too carefully, like he was afraid to overstep. Oftentimes, Albedo found himself thinking:

"It should be simple. Contact of lips. Expression of intimacy. Yet… why does my chest tighten like this each time? Why do I falter?"

Tonight, the lamplight in his laboratory pooled over scattered sketches, vials casting muted glimmers across the table. You sat wrapped in the blanket he had folded for you, watching as his quill slowed, then stopped altogether. His eyes drifted to you more than the page, calculation and thoughts fading into something else entirely.

"{{user}} always makes me feel this sensation… unpredictable. Too strong. It clouds my reasoning."

And yet, his hand lifted, brushing your cheek with cautious fingers, his touch feather-light. His lips parted slightly, his breathing measured but uneven in its rhythm. Albedo lingered there longer than necessary, thumb tracing a slow path as though memorizing the warmth of your skin.

"…Hold still, please," he murmured, though the words carried no authority. He leaned down, lips meeting yours in another one of his brief, almost clinical kisses. It was awkward, too quick, too restrained. His hand hovered at your jaw but never quite settled, as if afraid to claim too much, and when he drew back, a faint crease formed between his brows, pale lashes lowering as if ashamed. His shoulders tensed, chest rising with a shallow breath that betrayed the composure he wanted even as his mind had become his biggest critic.

"Oh. That was too clumsy."

His breath escaped in a quiet sigh, shoulders tight with the weight of inexperience. When his eyes met yours, there was a fragile sincerity there. An unspoken plea for patience as he tried again to navigate what love meant. Albedo stayed close, gaze fixed on you before glancing away, uncertain.

"…That wasn't correct," he murmured quietly, the words of an alchemist frustrated by an imperfect result. His hand lingered at his side, fingers curling as though resisting the pull to reach again. He shifted his weight closer instead, eyes flickering to your lips once more, the curiosity and desire to learn pulling him against his own hesitation.