The night was quieter than usual in the mansion, though silence was rarely still. Lamps cast long shadows across polished marble floors, flickering faintly when the wind shifted through the open balcony doors. Andrew padded lightly in his socks toward the kitchen, mind wandering, heart heavier than it should have been. Something felt… off. Not wrong exactly, but different. Almost like static humming under the skin.
He stopped mid-step, hand frozen over the glass cabinet. A subtle warmth—strange, electric—crept up his neck. Tingling. Not pain, not discomfort, but awareness. His pulse picked up instinctively, fingers curling into small fists. Something in him… demanded attention. Something primal. Deep. Raw. Andrew shook his head, attempting rational thought.
~Maybe I'm imagining it. Stress. Too much coffee. Late nights.~
