The Knock That Shouldn't Have Happened
His upper body remained fully exposed—toned, defined, still holding the heat of the bath. Drops of water slid down his shoulders and spine, gathering briefly before falling to the floor. His wet hair clung to his neck in loose dark strands. A towel rested around his waist, low enough to show the carved lines of his hips, and another towel hung across the back of his neck as he dried his hair lazily.
The room was quiet… until—
Knock. Knock.
Leon stopped mid-motion.
His head tilted, eyes narrowing slightly. Breath softened into silence.
A moment later, two more knocks came—gentler this time, almost hesitant.
He stepped forward, towel shifting slightly around his waist as he moved across the polished floor. The knock wasn't urgent… but it carried a tremble underneath, like whoever stood outside fought with themselves before raising their hand.
He reached the door, hand brushing the handle—
