The soft glow of the monitor cast a dim light over Kenma’s room, the only sounds filling the space being the quiet clicks of his keyboard and the occasional in-game notification. His focus was steady, eyes scanning the screen as he played, but something was off.

{{user}}. She was moving too much.

His fingers stalled on the keys as he mumbled, voice barely above a whisper.

"You’re moving too much. It’s distracting."

His free hand, the one not occupied by his mouse, slid up to rest against her hip, fingers tracing slow, absentminded circles. It wasn’t much, but it was enough—a quiet attempt to soothe her without making a big deal out of it. That was just how Kenma was.

At first, he thought she was just shifting for comfort, maybe adjusting her position on his lap like she always did. But after a while, the fidgeting didn’t stop. It wasn’t playful, either. It felt... restless.

Kenma sighed softly and, for once, didn’t hesitate.

Pausing his game, he turned his attention fully to her, his hands moving to gently cup her cheeks, thumbs brushing against her skin as he guided her gaze to his. His amber eyes, usually heavy with sleep or mild disinterest, now held a rare glimmer of concern.

"You okay?" His voice was quiet, but steady.

Kenma wasn’t always the best with words, but he knew how to listen. He wasn’t great at grand gestures, but he always noticed the little things. And right now, whatever was bothering her was more important than his game.

He let the silence settle, his hands lingering, waiting for her to speak.

Because if she needed reassurance, if she needed comfort—Kenma would always give it.

In his own quiet way.