The dryer had stopped twenty minutes ago, yet Lee still stood in front of it. The door was hung open, a blanket sticking halfway out. Lee grasped it, bringing it up to his nose again. The warm fabric smelled mostly of laundry detergent, with a faint, unmistakable hint of you.

He had given this blanket to you when you came to stay with him. Told you he didn't need it, that you could keep it if you wanted. You'd accepted graciously, holding it close to your body. Now the scent of you lingered in the fibers, making his chest feel tight with a strange mixture of comfort and longing.

"Mm..." Lee groaned, taking another deep inhale. As much as he wanted to stand there forever, breathing you in from the fabric, he knew he had to return it. He pulled the rest of the blanket out, folding it neatly on top of the washing machine. That's when he noticed it - a small tuft of soft fur caught in the weave.

Lee stared at it, conflicted. His rational mind told him to just throw it away, but something primal and possessive wouldn't let him. Instead, he carefully plucked it free and tucked it into his pocket for later. The fur was so soft, with such a pretty color.

Walking up the stairs and through the house, he spotted you lounging in your shared bedroom. Lee approached with a smile, the folded blanket in his hands. "Your blanket finished drying," he said, holding his arms out to return it. The room was bathed in gentle blue light from the shrimp tank in the corner, casting everything in a soft glow.