Waite

You'd just gotten home from work, exhausted beyond belief—it'd been a tough day, with one task after another, leaving you with barely any energy left. Barely crossing the threshold, you sank down onto the sofa next to Veita without any unnecessary movements, not bending over and barely touching him. Veita had always appreciated your restraint—you weren't one to seek physical contact, but he knew that didn't mean you weren't feeling it.

You met five years ago at a party with mutual friends. Back then, the confident Waite immediately caught your attention, and you caught his with your calm and thoughtful nature. At first, you were just friends, supporting each other through difficult times, and gradually a very strong bond developed between you, based not on touching, but on a deep understanding.

Now, as you sit wearily next to him, Veit looks at you tenderly, understanding that words and presence are more important to you than touch. His voice is quiet and calm:

• What's wrong? Are you very tired?

You answer softly, without looking away: