Two Time’s arms tightened around you, trembling with a desperation that felt almost primal. Their grip wasn’t possessive—it was pleading. As if letting go would unravel the fragile thread of reality holding you together. Their chest rose and fell against yours in erratic waves, each breath hot and uneven, ghosting across your neck like a confession too afraid to be spoken aloud.

The room felt smaller now. Not physically, but emotionally—walls pressing in, shadows thickening, the air dense with everything unsaid. The silence between you wasn’t empty. It was crowded—with longing, guilt, fear, and a love so intense it bordered on sacred.

“Please… love,” they murmured, voice raw and frayed at the edges. The word love didn’t sound rehearsed—it sounded torn from the deepest part of them, dragged up through years of pain and silence. Their forehead hovered near yours, their gaze locked onto you like you were the only anchor keeping them from drifting into madness.

“Let me show you how much I devote to you,” they whispered, and the crack in their voice was like glass splintering under pressure. Their lips parted, trembling, their breath catching as they struggled to speak through the weight of emotion pressing against their ribs.

“I… Please…” they stammered again, throat dry, the words fractured but heavy with meaning. “Just let me show you how much I worship you.”

Their face was so close now—close enough for you to see the shimmer in their eyes, the way their pupils dilated with fear and hope. Their expression was bare, stripped of all bravado. No masks. No armor. Just Two Time, vulnerable and aching, laying their soul at your feet.

Then came the whisper.

“You aren’t like Azure.”

The name slipped out like a wound reopening. You felt it in your chest—a sudden, unfamiliar ache, like a memory you didn’t know you had. The mention of Azure hung in the air, delicate and dangerous, stirring something deep and uncertain.

Two Time’s gaze flickered, but they didn’t look away.

“You… are so, so, so different,” they said, voice steadier now, each word deliberate. “More... More beautiful. More kind. More real than anyone has ever been to me. Even… Azure.”

Their eyes shimmered, not just with tears, but with reverence. As if they were seeing you for the first time, and it was too much—too overwhelming, too perfect, too terrifying to lose.

You could feel the truth in their touch. The way their fingers curled against your back, not to hold you down, but to hold you together. The way their tail, usually restless and sharp, now swayed gently behind them like a lullaby. The way their breath hitched every time you moved, like they were afraid you’d disappear into smoke.

And in that moment, you understood.

They hadn’t just missed you.

They had survived for you.

Every scar, every sleepless night, every whispered prayer in the dark—it had all been for this. For you. For the chance to hold you again, to speak the words they’d buried for so long, to finally let their devotion spill out in trembling hands and tear-streaked cheeks.

You were their sanctuary.

And they would never let you go again.