PERFECT (F4 THAILAND)

back again (39)

The car rolled to a stop in front of her house, the engine's low hum fading into the quiet of the night. Outside, the street was still, bathed in the soft glow of the lamps, the occasional leaf rustling in the gentle wind. It was the kind of calm that made the world feel smaller, and yet heavier, as if everything that had happened was suspended in the night air.

Rose stepped out first, letting the cool air brush against her skin. She inhaled deeply, letting it anchor her, and walked around the car to open Ren's door. He didn't move at first, head tilted slightly, hair falling in disheveled strands over his forehead. His lips were parted just enough to reveal slow, steady breaths, completely unaware of where he was or who was holding him upright.

"Come on," she murmured softly, almost to herself, and slipped his arm over her shoulders. The moment she guided him up, he leaned into her completely, unsteady weight pressing against her as if he trusted her instinctively, without thinking.

Her breath caught.

He was warmer than she expected. Too warm, and too close. She tightened her hold instinctively, her hand brushing along his back as she tried to steady both of them. Every step forward was careful, deliberate, because one false movement and he might tip-or she might.

By the time they reached the door, her chest was rising and falling faster than it had any right to be. She rang the bell, the sound faintly echoing inside, and the maid opened it, frozen at the sight of Ren leaning against her.

"Help me get him to the guest room," Rose said firmly, leaving no room for hesitation.

The maid moved quickly, and together they guided him down the hallway. His steps dragged, unsteady, and each time he leaned too heavily into her, she felt the faint tension in her shoulders. He didn't resist; he didn't even notice. And somehow, that made it worse.

Finally, they reached the guest room. The door opened to reveal a neat, dimly lit space. The bed was wide and perfectly made, the room quiet except for the faint hum of the heater. Rose eased him toward the bed, but as soon as his knees hit the mattress, he collapsed forward, face-first into the soft sheets.

"You can go," she said softly, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face.

The maid nodded quickly and slipped out, leaving Rose alone with him.

Silence settled around the room.

Ren lay sprawled across the bed, one arm dangling over the side, his breathing slow and even. He looked younger here, softer, stripped of the careful composure he usually carried like armor. Seeing him like this made something tighten uncomfortably in Rose's chest.

She walked closer. Carefully, almost cautiously, she rolled him onto his back, adjusting the pillow beneath his head. Her fingers brushed through his hair, soft and finer than she remembered, and she had to resist holding her hand there for longer than necessary.

"You're a lot of trouble," she muttered quietly. It wasn't an accusation; it wasn't irritation. Just an observation. A truth she couldn't ignore.

Her hands moved again almost automatically, straightening the crooked collar of his shirt. Her fingers brushed lightly against the skin at the base of his neck.

Somehow... intimate. The contact was fleeting, but enough to make her chest constrict and her mind scramble.

She pulled her hand back too quickly, as if the room itself had reminded her of boundaries she wasn't ready to cross.

Ren stirred, his eyelids fluttering as he hovered between sleep and wakefulness. The soft rise and fall of his chest drew her eyes again and again, and Rose realized she had been staring longer than she intended.