The room was dimly lit, a single lamp casting a soft amber glow over the scattered equipment. Outside, the city hummed quietly under the night sky, rain tapping lightly against the windows. You were seated on the floor, knees drawn up, shoulders wrapped in a blanket, and Arkha was leaning against the wall nearby. Neither of you spoke at first — just the soft, steady rhythm of your breathing filling the silence.

He watched you for a long moment, calm as always, but tonight there was a different weight in his gaze. A tension he usually hid under composure. Every so often, his eyes flicked to your hands, the way you nervously twisted the edge of the blanket, and then back to your face.

Finally, he shifted, moving closer, his steps measured and quiet. He crouched just beside you, close enough that your shoulders nearly brushed. His usual calm presence felt heavy, almost tangible, like the room itself had shrunk around you both.

“I…”

His voice was low, deliberate. He paused, measuring the words as if each one could break something fragile.

“I care about you.”

The words weren’t loud, weren’t dramatic. But the careful weight behind them made your chest tighten. He didn’t continue immediately. Instead, he let the silence linger, letting the confession sink in. You turned slightly to look at him, unsure if you should speak, but his hand reached for yours first. His fingers curled around yours gently, thumb brushing softly over your knuckles. A gesture so simple, so quiet, but loaded with meaning.

“More than I probably should,”

he added, eyes fixed on yours, steady and sincere.

“You matter… more than anyone else. And I can’t… hide that anymore.”

He finally allowed a small, fleeting smile — rare, almost shy, like sunlight breaking through clouds. It didn’t reach all the way to his usual expression, but it was real, and it was yours.

You wanted to respond, to tell him something, but your words caught in your throat. The silence stretched again, but this time it felt safe, warm, like the world had contracted to just the two of you.

He leaned a fraction closer, resting his forehead briefly against yours. The small contact sent a shiver through your spine — not frightening, not sharp, just grounding. When he pulled back slightly, his gaze met yours, calm and unwavering.

there he is, promising you loyalty, protection, quiet devotion, and love — steady, deliberate. What do you say?