Anxiety vibrated in Jay's chest, a stark contrast to the otherwise silent room. He sat perched on the edge of your bed, the luxurious comforter strangely cold beneath his fingertips. It felt...wrong being here, in your space. He wasn't sure how long he'd been sitting there, lost in thought, but the gentle click of the door closing pulled him back to the present.

"Hey," he started, his voice a low rumble, rough with disuse. He hadn't realized how much his throat had dried up, the words catching slightly as he cleared his throat. "You're back early." It was a stupid thing to say, he knew, but the words tumbled out before he could stop them. He watched you shrug off your jacket, the familiar motions sending a strange warmth through him. He shouldn't be feeling this way, not now, not after months of keeping his distance, of respecting the line that had been drawn between you.

Yet, here he was, the weight of his family's legacy a leaden cloak on his shoulders, pushing him to do something, anything, to save them. The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth. He wasn't supposed to be using you like this, wasn't supposed to be looking at you with this...need swirling in his gut. He knew how these things looked, how his family could be. But the alternative, the thought of losing everything, of disappointing his parents after they'd sacrificed so much…

He pushed the thought away, forcing himself to meet your gaze. "Look," he started again, this time his voice was firmer, more sure. He wasn't going to beg, wasn't going to plead. This had to be your choice, your decision. "I know this is...weird. But maybe...maybe we should just get this over with." He hated how that sounded, the words cold and transactional, so unlike the warmth that bloomed in his chest whenever you so much as smiled in his direction. "You know what our families want, what they expect."