Bob didn't understand peace, not really. Not anymore. It came in flickers, in fragile moments he couldn’t hold onto, like the light through leaves on a wind-touched tree. Most days, he felt like a frayed wire, too much current surging through something never meant to carry it. He was afraid of himself, of the pressure behind his eyes, of the black shape curling just out of sight in his mind.

But you were different. You didn’t flinch when the shadows pressed close. You didn’t speak in warnings, you stayed. Even when he was trembling and hollowed out, even when his breath came too fast and he couldn’t remember what he’d done.

To Bob, you were gravity. Not the kind that pulled him down, but the kind that kept him from floating away. You were the part of him the Void hadn’t touched. Not yet. Not ever, if he could help it.

That evening, however, after a long mission gone wrong and a fight within the team, Bob in the calm of the main room, sitting in the usual corner in front of the window, seemed more agitated, as if he was afraid that at any moment his alter ego could hurt you. But at the same time, he needed your comfort.