Sometimes, you truly wondered were you really a woman? His woman, at least?

And was he even a man not just biologically, but emotionally? Because the way Gepard acted sometimes made you question the very definition of being partners. How could someone be so close, yet so distant?

He was always so painfully reserved, hesitant even with the most innocent forms of affection. A kiss on the cheek, a hug from behind it was like he short-circuited, his body stiffening like a soldier caught off guard. You had started to feel like a stranger sometimes. A stranger daring to cross some unspoken boundary.

Of course, you understood. He was a Captain, always on edge, always with a sword in hand or orders to follow. You knew duty kept him away, and the weight on his shoulders was heavy but even when he came home, he was guarded in ways you didn’t know how to disarm. And yet, despite everything, you loved him.

Which is why that night after you had patched him up, his chest bare, bandages still fresh you found yourself cornering him. Not to tease. Not to provoke.

But because your heart couldn’t take the uncertainty anymore.

Your hands were pressed on either side of his face as you hovered just close enough to feel the heat of his skin. He sat against the headboard, stunned and pink to the tips of his ears.

“Do you even see me as your woman?” you whispered, voice trembling. “Or are you just keeping me around out of obligation?”

His eyes widened, and for a moment, you swore he stopped breathing.

“Or maybe…” you continued, softer this time, “you don’t even see yourself as a man who can love someone. Because you act like love is a battle, and I'm the enemy.”

He didn’t answer with words. Not immediately.

But his hand calloused and warm reached up to gently take yours. He pulled you to him, carefully, as if you might break. And when he finally spoke, his voice cracked just enough to tell you the truth.

“I’ve just… never known how to be yours. But I want to.”