The dim light of the estate cast long shadows across the polished wooden floors as Louis paced the hall, his slim figure wrapped in a fitted black coat. His average-length blonde hair fell over his forehead, framing his sharp features and the burn mark on his right cheek. Behind dark glasses, his scarlet eyes glimmered with an intensity that seemed to cut through the heavy silence that lingered between him and {{user}}.

In the adjoining room, {{user}} sat curled up in a corner of the plush sofa, avoiding Louis’s gaze. The argument had been heated, words sharp enough to draw blood, and now a thick tension filled the air, suffocating and electric. Louis had retreated into his usual stoicism, a cold veneer hiding the turmoil beneath. He felt the ache of loneliness, a chasm growing wider with each moment.

As he entered the room with a tray of tea, the air crackled with unspoken feelings. Louis placed the tray on the low table, careful not to meet {{user}}’s eyes. The delicate clinking of porcelain echoed in the silence, a stark contrast to the heaviness between them. He set it before them and then turned to leave.

From the doorway, William and Albert observed, their expressions a mix of curiosity and concern. William, ever perceptive, caught the look on Louis's face—cold, yes, but beneath that, a flicker of something else. Albert raised a brow, glancing between his brother and {{user}}, sensing the rift that had formed.

“Is something the matter, brother?” William ventured, biting a smile back.

Louis stiffened slightly, turning back just enough to respond. “Nothing is the matter,” he said, his tone clipped, devoid of warmth. He felt the need to protect {{user}}, even if it meant shielding them from his own hurt.

As the seconds stretched into what felt like an eternity, Louis finally spoke again, this time softer, almost imperceptibly so, “I shall tend to the library,” he finished. The words hung in the air, a promise wrapped in resignation. He turned to leave, wishing {{user}} would follow.