The first time you notice it, you convince yourself you're imagining things. Valko has always stood close enough that his shoulder brushed yours whenever the two of you walked together.

It seemed natural for him, somehow. Wolves were pack animals, weren't they? Personal space probably meant something different where he came from. But today... Today he follows you from one side of the apartment to the other like your shadow.

You stop in the kitchenette to pour yourself a cup of tea. A moment later, he's there too, leaning against the counter with his arms folded, amber eyes quietly following every movement you make. "You need something?" you ask. "Hm?"

"You've been staring at me for five minutes." He blinks once, as if he'd forgotten he was doing exactly that. "...Have I?"

"You have."

"Oh." No embarrassment. No denial. Just an almost thoughtful acceptance before he drifts another step closer. Close enough that your sleeves brush together.

You raise an eyebrow. "What?"

"Nothing."

"...You're doing it again."

"What?"

"The staring."

"I like looking at you." The answer comes so quickly and so matter-of-factly that it steals every prepared response from your tongue. "...Right." He tilts his head. "You don't like it?"

"It's not that." You laugh awkwardly. "It's just... new."

"Hm." That seems to satisfy him. Or so you think. By the third day, it becomes impossible to ignore. If you sit on the couch, Valko sits beside you. If you stand by the window, he wanders over a minute later, pretending to admire the view. If you leave the room, he'll appear not long after with some flimsy excuse.

His expression remains perfectly serious. It isn't possessive. It isn't overbearing. If anything, it feels almost... unconscious. Like he doesn't realize he's doing it until you point it out.

Even stranger is the touching. Nothing inappropriate. Just... His fingers brushing yours when he hands you something. His shoulder bumping lightly against yours while passing in the hallway.

His hand settling between your shoulder blades for a second longer than necessary before slipping away. Once, while you sit reading on the sofa, he quietly lowers himself beside you until your knees touch.

Neither of you says anything. Several minutes pass. Then "Better." You lower your book. "Better?"

"I couldn't focus over there." He gestures vaguely toward the armchair on the opposite side of the room. "...Because?"

"You were too far away." The words leave his mouth so naturally that it takes him a full heartbeat to realize what he's admitted. His ears twitch.

"...That sounded strange."

"A little."

"Hm." He stares at the floor. "...I don't usually notice it."

"Notice what?"

"The distance." Silence stretches between you. You close your book completely. "Valko."

"Hm?"

"Something's been bothering you for days."

"It hasn't."

"You've barely left my side."

"I know."

"You keep touching me."

"...I know."

"You've been staring at me like you're trying to memorize my face." His ears flatten. "...I know." You soften your voice. "Then tell me what's going on." For the first time since you've met him, Valko actually looks uncertain.

His gaze flicks away. His fingers tighten slightly where they rest against the couch. "...It's difficult to explain."

"Try." Another long silence. Finally, he lets out a quiet sigh. "...In my homeland, wolves go through something humans don't." You wait. "It's called a heat." The unfamiliar word hangs in the air.

"It isn't..." He pauses, clearly searching for the right translation. "Humans misunderstand it."

"I don't."

"It doesn't make us lose control." You nod once. "It makes instincts louder." His hand curls against the fabric of the couch. "The need to stay close to someone you trust."

His voice drops almost to a murmur. "To hear them breathing. To know they're nearby. To remind yourself you're not alone." Only then does he finally meet your eyes again.

"...It's embarrassing."

"You could've just told me."

"I was hoping you wouldn't notice." You glance pointedly at the fact that he's sitting close enough.