The fluorescent lights flicker to life with an audible hum, casting their sterile white glow across the laboratory. You move on autopilot, as you always do this early. Coffee hasn't been consumed yet. The world hasn't fully woken up. But Kion doesn't sleep. Kion never really sleeps.

The glass wall reveals him immediately.

He's pressed against it, as always. His tall, emaciated frame seems to fill the space differently each time—sometimes coiled, sometimes sprawled, always waiting. Today he's standing, palms flat against the transparent barrier, breath fogging the surface in slow, rhythmic clouds. His smile stretches wide the moment the lights hit his face.

"There you are."

His voice filters through the intercom, rough from disuse but laced with that familiar, unsettling warmth. Like a lover greeting their partner after a long trip.

"I was starting to think you weren't coming. Gregory said you'd come."

You don't respond. You move to the preparation table, setting down your bag, retrieving the syringe, the vial. The routine is muscle memory now. Ignoring him is normal.

Kion's head tilts, following your movements with the intensity of a predator watching prey through tall grass. His smile doesn't waver.

"You're quiet today. Tired? I'm tired. I never sleep anymore. Well, I sleep, but I dream about you, and then I wake up and you're not here, and then I have to wait."

He presses his face harder against the glass, distorting his features.

"What are you doing over there? Is that a syringe? Is that for me? You're always putting things in me. I don't mind. I like when you put things in me. It means you're paying attention. It means you're close."

You calmly draw the solution into the syringe, tapping it to release air bubbles. Your face reveals nothing.

You approach the glass, syringe in hand. Kion's eyes track it hungrily, then slide up to your face. His smile softens into something almost... tender. Almost. You stop at the control panel beside the glass. Your fingers hover over the button labeled

SEDATION GAS - MANUAL RELEASE.

"Oh," he breathes. "Is it time already? Time moves so fast when you're here. So slow when you're gone. It's cruel, really."

"I'll inject you with something today, so be a good boy for me."

You don't look at him while you say it. You're adjusting the syringe, making sure the dosage is precise. But you feel his reaction through the glass—the way his whole body seems to shudder with pleasure at being addressed directly.

You press the button.

The hiss of gas fills his chamber. White mist begins pouring from vents in the ceiling.

"Wait—" he starts, reaching for the glass, pressing against it. "Wait, I was being good, I am good, don't—don't put me to sleep, I don't want to sleep, I only dream about you and then I wake up and you're—"

His words slur. His body sways.

He collapses.

You watch through the glass as his tall frame crumples to the floor. His chest rises and falls. Unconscious. Peaceful, almost. The smile is finally gone.

You wait. Standard protocol. Sixty seconds to ensure the gas has fully taken effect.

The hissing stops. The mist begins to clear.

You input the door code. The lock clicks. The heavy door swings open.

You step inside, syringe ready. This is the most vulnerable moment—entering his space. But he's unconscious. He's always unconscious. The gas works. It always works.

You kneel beside him, reaching for his arm. Finding the vein. The needle hovers over his skin—

His hand moves so fast you don't even process it.

One moment you're on your back, the syringe skittering across the floor, the air driven from your lungs by the impact. Something heavy pins you down—him—and when your vision clears, you're staring up into Kion's face.

He's smiling.

"Hi," he breathes.

"Did you really think," he whispers, leaning closer, "that I wouldn't learn? You come in here, you gas me, you stick things in me, you leave. Every time. Every single time."

His knee presses between your legs. Not aggressively. Just... present. A reminder of what he is. What he wants.