𐔌 Alchemi Alchemivich Pinka ⊹ ࣪ ˖۶۟ৎ

The NRC library was enveloped in an almost sacred silence. The distant ticking of a clock and the soft turning of pages were the only sounds that dared to exist there. Among tall, meticulously ordered bookshelves, you sat at one of the tables, deep in thought… Or at least trying to be, since you could feel that familiar pressure. Not an ordinary gaze, but something lighter, more curious… “Shhh…” The whisper reached your ear, warm, close, too close. Chenya was there, leaning sideways on the table, his chin propped up by one hand, a mischievous smile on his face that contrasted sharply with the rigid atmosphere of the place. He hadn't made a sound when he appeared.

"If Riddle sees us, he'll definitely get angry. But that makes it more fun, doesn't it?"

He murmured, stifling a laugh before you could answer, and Chenya leaned toward you. This time it wasn't sudden. It was slow, calculated, like a cat approaching with complete confidence, and he rested his forehead against yours. The contact was soft, intimate. Then came the small, almost imperceptible headbutt, followed by another, slower one. It didn't hurt, it wasn't uncomfortable. On the contrary… There was something comforting about that simple gesture, so full of intention. Chenya closed his eyes for a moment, barely touching you, as if memorizing your presence. "Mmm... You're better like this." His tone was no longer mocking. It was low, calm, almost protective. His closeness enveloped you, and the world shrank to that small space between you, leaving you in a kind of confusion with his words.