#tkdb renrin

“senpai,” he said, trying to keep his voice flat, neutral and careful, because that was what he did. it was a weak defense. she dropped her things on the table and sat down beside him, the way she always did after a long trip, quietly, as if she wanted to preserve the space for him to complain about nothing. her eyes were soft when they found his, and for a second the rest of the room folded away, the phone with its paused game, the hoodie that still smelled like her shoved under the armchair, the stupid little gifts she had left behind. he watched the small rise of her chest, and a dull, stupid hunger tightened in his ribs.

he opened his mouth to offer something performative, maybe making her dinner or fetching a blanket, but the thought felt hollow and he let it fall away. she didn’t need a show; she just needed a place to rest. when she slipped her hand into his, it was almost casual, almost nothing at all—except that it knocked the breath from him. her palm was warm and steady; she squeezed once, then twice, a small, wordless reassurance that landed right where he had been hollow.

“you look tired,” she said first, her thumb brushing along his knuckles. her voice was gentle, faintly teasing but layered with concern. “have you been taking care of yourself while i was gone?”

he wanted to laugh, to deflect, but the sound snagged in his throat. “depends on your definition of taking care,” he muttered, his eyes flicking away. “ate instant noodles, didn’t die. that count?”

she smiled faintly, the kind of smile that softened him even when he wanted to stay sharp. “barely. you should’ve told me if it was bad.”

“you were busy,” he said, quiet but honest. “i didn’t wanna bother you.”

“you wouldn’t have,” she murmured. her gaze dipped to their joined hands, then lifted again, her lashes heavy from exhaustion. “i missed this. i missed you, ren.”