The storm outside raged, but here, the warmth of the room held you. You thought he had drifted off, his breathing steady, when the lightning carved him into stark relief.

Lines glimmered across his hands, running up his arms like rivers of light, delicate and terrifyingly beautiful. You couldn’t help staring. Each flash revealed more—an entire map written into his skin.

Your fingers trembled as you reached for him, but stopped an inch above his hand. Would he pull away if you touched? Would he close himself off, the way he always did when anyone asked about the demon within?

But then, without opening his eyes, he turned his hand palm-up, inviting you. You gasped softly, the storm rumbling like an echo of your heart.

“You see it now,” he murmured, his voice low, threaded with exhaustion but also relief. “And you’re still here.”

Your hand slid into his. The glow brightened, as though his patterns recognized your touch—and instead of fear, you felt awe.