*Runze's POV*
"...Just please don't stop talking to me."
My footsteps come to a halt.
For several long seconds, I stand completely still near the bathroom doorway. His fingers are still wrapped around my wrist.
They are trembling.
I slowly turn around to face him, and the moment I see his face, something in my chest does something I wasn't prepared for.
This isn't the worry he wears when I push myself too hard. It isn't the tight, restrained thing he gets when I'm in pain and he's trying not to show that it's affecting him. I know those versions. I've catalogued them without meaning to, the way you absorb the small patterns of someone you live beside long enough.
This is different.
