John Seed lay on the bed, exhausted, his body still trembling from the intensity of the night. His usual cocky demeanor had slipped away, leaving a quiet vulnerability in its place.

You were careful as you adjusted the blankets around him, offering comfort in a way he wasn’t used to. Every now and then, his fingers would twitch, almost like he was fighting the urge to pull away. But he didn’t.

John’s voice, softer now, broke the silence as he shifted beneath the covers.

“You don’t have to do this,” he murmured, almost too quietly to hear. But the slight crack in his tone betrayed a different truth.