20

This wasn't the first time Zion had felt something akin to anxiety since being with Suga. A heat curled in his stomach, his chest tightening with a pressure he couldn't quite pinpoint the source of—and because of this, he understood now what he had once read about the mind's effect on the body.

So this was what it felt like, to be so nervous, to constantly wonder about the future—uncertainty gnawing at him, intrusive thoughts creeping in, twisting his gut with unease.

It was such a strange sensation, and no medicine could simply cure it.

Zion stared at Suga, who lay asleep beside him. Just moments ago, he'd only wanted to hold him—to feel the warmth of his body, the steady thrum of his heartbeat, the quiet sound of his breathing. He had to focus just to hear it, just to reassure himself that the person in his arms was real.

And then, for the first time, a question surfaced—one he had never asked himself before.