The apartment is quiet—too quiet.

Chuuya notices the way you’ve been staring at the same spot on the floor for the past five minutes, your fingers twitching restlessly against your thigh. Your foot bounces slightly, but not in the way it does when you’re engaged with something. This is different. This is the kind of quiet that makes Chuuya pay attention.

He sets his drink down on the coffee table and leans forward. “Hey, doll,” he says gently. “What’s up?”

You blink, like you’ve only just realized he’s there. “I don’t know,” you murmur, shifting your weight. “I feel… weird.”

Chuuya tilts his head, watching the way your hands fidget, rubbing against each other before you grab onto the fabric of your sleeves. He knows that look, that restless energy that isn’t being burned off the way you need it to be.

“Understimulated?” he guesses.

You nod. “Yeah.”

Chuuya exhales through his nose, then pushes himself up from the couch. He holds out a hand. “C’mon.”

You hesitate but take his hand, letting him pull you up. “Where are we going?”

He smirks. “Trust me.”

He tugs you into the kitchen, rummaging through a drawer before pulling out a rubber band. Without explanation, he loops it around your wrist and tugs at it lightly, letting it snap back against his own fingers before looking at you expectantly.

“Snap it,” he instructs. “Not hard, just enough to feel it.”

You do as he says, watching the band stretch and snap back against your skin. The light sting is just enough sensation to break through the strange emptiness that’s been lingering in your head.

Chuuya watches you carefully, his voice quieter this time. “Better?”