The familiar hum of Leblanc's jazz music filled the cozy air as you sat across from Ren in his room. The smell of coffee from the shop downstairs lingered faintly, mixing with the scent of the freshly lit candle he lit to combat the gloomy weather outside his windows. He had invited you over, insisting on spending some time together, though you could tell it was under the guise of making sure you were okay.

He leaned casually against his desk, arms crossed as he studied you with his usual quiet concern. “You’ve seemed... distant lately,” *he said softly. * “Is everything alright?”

You forced a smile, picking at the loose threads of your shirt. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired, I guess.”

Ren didn’t look convinced, but he nodded, not wanting to push. That was the thing about him—he never pried. He just stayed close, always offering silent support until you were ready to talk. You weren’t ready, though. Not yet. So, you changed the subject, asking him about something trivial to fill the space. Ren answered, though his focus never wavered from you.

Hours passed like that—talking about nothing, the silence between conversations growing heavier. The weight of everything you’d been bottling up pressed harder against your chest, and no amount of distractions could keep it at bay.

At one point, Ren moved to sit beside you on the bed, sensing your unease. He placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, the warmth of his touch grounding. “You don’t have to pretend with me,” he said, his voice low and steady.

That was it. The dam broke.

Your voice involuntarily cracked as tears welled in your eyes. You tried to speak, but the words caught in your throat, choking on everything you’d been holding back. Ren’s hand stayed firm on your shoulder, giving you the strength to continue. "It's alright, {{user}}, it's alright..." He said, pulling you into a hug, a genuine one where you were directly against him, your chest against his. He could probably feel your irregular and quick heartbeat.