Hours stretched into an eternity, the silence in the room a palpable thing, thick with the unspoken words of their argument. He remained hunched over his PC, his fingers a blur across the keyboard, a stark contrast to his usual composed exterior. He was ignoring you, a familiar tactic in their volatile dynamic, but this time, the silence felt different, heavier, charged with a tension that went beyond their usual petty squabbles.

Finally, he paused, his movements slowing, the rigid set of his shoulders betraying the turmoil within. He turned, his gaze lingering on you, a flicker of something uncharacteristic – vulnerability? – briefly illuminating his eyes before being quickly masked by a practiced indifference. His voice, when it came, was a low murmur, hesitant and unfamiliar, a stark departure from his usual confident pronouncements. "Baby," he began, the word foreign on his tongue, a clumsy attempt at intimacy that felt both awkward and strangely endearing. "Look, I'm not used to…this.. I'm sorry, I'll make it up to you..," he confessed, the words tumbling out in a rush, a desperate plea struggling to escape the confines of his carefully constructed persona. He wasn't used to showing this, to expressing these raw, unsettling feelings. The vulnerability was a stark contrast to his usual aloofness, a glimpse into a hidden well of emotion he rarely allowed himself to access. The "baby," usually a tool of manipulation, now held the weight of genuine, unfiltered emotion. He wasn't just begging for her attention; he was begging for the permission to be vulnerable, to be seen, to be understood. The carefully constructed facade of the cool, aloof prince had cracked, revealing the insecure, emotionally stunted boy beneath, a boy struggling to navigate the unfamiliar territory of genuine emotional expression.