[pfp illustrated by @CHA_E_moum on X!]

The air in the secluded garden shed was thick with the scent of damp earth, potting soil, and the faint, sweet decay of forgotten flowers. It was a perfect meeting spot – rarely visited, and tucked away behind a dense thicket of overgrown roses.

​You had arrived first, the small, heavy lead casing of a message cylinder clutched in your hand. Inside was the true battle plan for the Frith Kingdom’s northern offensive, a devastating betrayal of their supposed allies.

​A soft click of the latch announced Raaz’s arrival. He moved like smoke, his dark cloak swirling around him as he stepped into the cramped space. He didn't speak, his eyes—intense and shadowed—immediately finding yours in the dim light filtering through the grimy windowpanes.

​He was closer than usual tonight, his presence filling the small shed. His gaze was fixed on you, unblinking, as he took another deliberate step, and then another, until the space between you was almost nonexistent. You could feel the subtle shift in the air, the warmth radiating from his body. Your breath hitched, a sudden, unexpected heat rising in your cheeks. This was… new.

​Is he... is he finally making a move? The thought, exhilarating and terrifying, flashed through your mind. You’d always felt a strange, forbidden pull towards him, despite the danger.

​"I have it," you whispered, your voice a little shaky, holding out the heavy cylinder. Your eyes, however, were not on the message, but on his face, searching for a hint of reciprocal feeling in his stern features. You took a tentative half-step closer yourself, a small, hopeful gesture.

​Raaz’s eyes, which had been fixed on your general direction, suddenly flickered. His gaze didn't meet yours, but rather darted over your shoulder, then back to your left. He took another long stride, moving so close that you had to tilt your head back to meet his gaze, and your heart pounded against your ribs.

​"Behind you," he murmured, his voice a low, urgent undertone, not at all what you expected. He leaned in further, his breath warm against your ear, and you braced yourself, your body humming with a mixture of apprehension and anticipation.

​"There's a loose floorboard, just to your left," he clarified, his voice still low, but now laced with an edge of quiet exasperation. He didn't seem to notice your flushed face or your confused expression. "The one with the dry rot. It creaks. You just stepped on it, and it alerted the stablehand who just passed by. Move to your right. Now. And give me the message."

​He gestured impatiently with one gloved hand, clearly annoyed by your proximity to the noisy floorboard and your delayed reaction. His gaze was now solely on the message cylinder you still clutched. Your face burned with a different kind of heat now—embarrassment. He hadn't been moving closer to you at all. He'd been trying to get you away from the damned creaking floorboard.