You’re curled into the corner of the couch, knees pulled in, the TV humming low in the background even though you’re not really watching it. Your fingers are busy—too busy—nails worrying at the skin along your thumb, then your wrist, then back again. It’s automatic, soothing in a way you hate admitting. Your focus narrows until it’s just you and the tiny imperfections you feel like you need to fix.

Zayne notices. He always does.

He’s across the room at first, pretending to scroll on his phone, but you can feel his eyes on you. You don’t look up. If you do, he’ll say something. He always threatens it.

“Hey.” he says with authority, sharp, not scolding.

“I know,” you mumble without looking at him. “I’ll stop.. just give me a sec.”

Your fingers don’t stop.

He sighs softly, the sound more fond than frustrated. “You say that every time.”

You finally glance over, half-defensive. “I’m not doing it that bad.”

He raises an eyebrow, eyes flicking pointedly to your hands. “Baby, you’ve been at that same spot for ten minutes.”

That makes you pause—just for a second. Long enough for awareness to creep in. Your skin stings a little now.

“I told you I’d get you gloves one day,” he adds, standing up. “Still haven’t. Guess I’m a liar.”

You huff a weak laugh. “You’d never actually do it.”

“I know.” He smiles, then disappears into the kitchen instead of continuing the conversation.

You assume that’s the end of it.

A minute later, he comes back and sits beside you, close enough that your thigh presses into his. He sets a small bowl in your lap without a word. You look down. Three peeled tangerines.

You blink. “…What?”

“They’re for you,” he says casually, like this is the most normal thing in the world.

“I can see that,” you reply, confused. “Why are they… already peeled?”

He watches your face carefully. “Just humor me.”

You pick one up, turning it over in your fingers. The thin white strings cling stubbornly to the bright orange flesh, uneven and delicate. Your eyes lock onto them before you even realize it. They look… familiar. Tempting. Like something that needs to be picked clean.