Ling knelt.
If anyone else had been there, they wouldn't have believed it.
He was on one knee in front of the couch, close enough to feel Rhea's breath, close enough that walking away would have been easier than staying and yet he stayed.
Rhea lay still, wrapped in Ling's blazer, dark lashes resting against pale skin. Water had dried into soft lines along her neck. Her chest rose and fell slowly now, steady.
Ling stared.
He didn't mean to.
But his eyes traced anyway.
The curve of Rhea's lips slightly parted, softer without words sharp enough to wound the taste of them fk intoxicating.
The small nose ring catching the light even now, stubbornly defiant.
The arch of her brows strong even in sleep, as if she refused to look weak.
Ling swallowed.
This is ridiculous.
He'd faced boardrooms. Enemies. Threats with teeth.
This... this was just a girl.
So why couldn't he look away?
Heat crept up his neck before he noticed it. A faint flush brushed his cheeks foreign, unwelcome. Ling frowned, confused, lifting a hand to his face as if he'd been struck.
Blushing.
The realization hit him harder than fear ever had.
He stood abruptly, turning away as if distance could undo the moment. He went to the window, back rigid, hands clenched behind him, staring at glass without seeing anything.
Get control, he ordered himself.
This ends now.
Behind him...
Rhea inhaled sharply.
A breath too aware to be unconscious.
Ling didn't turn.
Rhea's fingers curled against the couch. Her eyes opened slowly, vision blurring, then sharpening.
Empty room.
No nurses. No staff.
Just luxury. Silence. And...
She recognized it instantly.
"This isn't a hospital," Rhea said hoarsely.
Ling smiled faintly.
Still facing the window.
"Congratulations," Ling replied coolly. "You're observant even when you drown."
Rhea pushed herself up on one elbow, wincing slightly. The blazer slipped slightly. Her gaze swept the room and landed on Ling.
At his back.
At his posture.
At the tension he wasn't hiding as well as he thought.
"Your changing room," Rhea murmured. "Did I earn an invitation?"
Ling turned then.
Arms crossed. Expression cold. Mask perfect.
"Don't flatter yourself," he said. "You were inconveniently unconscious."
Rhea studied him really studied him.
The faint color Ling hadn't realized still lingered. The way his eyes refused to linger now. The distance he'd put between them like a wall built too late.
Rhea's lips curved.
"Oh," she said softly. "Did I interrupt something?"
Ling's jaw tightened.
"You fell," Ling snapped. "You panicked. You embarrassed yourself."
Rhea swung her legs off the couch slowly, testing her balance. She stood... steady now... and took one step closer.
"I didn't panic," Rhea said calmly. "And you don't save people you don't care about."
Ling laughed, sharp and dismissive. "Care? I don't care if you breathe."
Rhea stopped inches away.
"Then why," she asked quietly, "were you kneeling?"
The room went very still.
Ling's eyes darkened.
"Don't think much you are delusional don't forget your limit," he said coldly. "You imagine things that don't exist."
Rhea smiled not egoistic, not mocking.
Knowing.
She reached up, adjusting her nose ring deliberately, eyes never leaving Ling's face.
"Whatever helps you sleep, Ling Kwong."
Ling opened the door and stepped aside.
"Get dressed," he ordered. "And don't mistake rescue for mercy again."
Rhea passed him, shoulder brushing Ling's arm light, intentional.
At the door, Rhea paused.
"Next time," she said softly, without turning, "I'll make sure I don't fall if I do then I'll make sure not to get unconscious to show you Fire Always Melt Ice."
The door closed.
Ling remained standing.
Heart loud. Control fraying.
He touched his face again still warm.
And for the first time, Ling Kwong admitted something he would never say aloud:
The danger wasn't that Rhea had seen him weak.
The danger was that Rhea had seen him true.