I knew he didn’t want me here.

{{user}} hadn’t said it outright—he rarely ever did—but I could feel it in the way his shoulders stayed tight, in the way his eyes kept drifting to the door like he was waiting for something bad to walk in.

Or maybe… something bad to come back.

“This is fine,” he’d muttered earlier, like he was trying to convince himself more than me. “You don’t have to stay, Molloy.”

“I want to,” I’d said, softer.

And I meant it.

Because this place—

It wasn’t just walls and floors.

It was everything he’d survived.

Everything that had hurt him.

And I couldn’t fix that.

But I could… try to give him something else here.

Something good.

By the time evening settled in, the house felt different.

Still quiet.

Still heavy in places.

But there was light now—soft, flickering from the candles I’d set on the small table.

“Don’t laugh,” I warned, holding up the slightly lopsided cake.

He looked at it.

Then at me.

And for a second, I thought he might actually refuse.

But then—

That small, reluctant smile.

“Did you make that?” he asked.

“Don’t sound so surprised,” I huffed.

“I’m terrified, actually.”

I gasped. “{{user}} Lynch!”

That earned me a real smile.

Small. But real.

Worth everything.

We kept it simple.

No loud music. No crowd. No expectations.

Just us.

He opened his gifts slowly, like he wasn’t used to it. Like he didn’t quite know what to do with someone making a fuss over him.

And every time he looked at me—

really looked—

there was something there.

Something soft.

Something a little shaken.

Like he didn’t understand why I was doing all this.

Like he didn’t think he deserved it.

Later, when the candles had burned low and the house slipped back into quiet, we ended up sitting close—closer than we had been all day.

The air felt different now.

Heavier.

Not in a bad way.

Just… full.

“Didn’t have to do all this, you know,” he said quietly.

“I know.”

A pause.

“Then why did you?”

I looked around the room.

At the walls that had seen too much.

At the space that had held too much silence.

Then back at him.

“Because you deserve one good memory here,” I said softly.

His jaw tightened slightly.

Not defensive.

Just… overwhelmed.

“You’ve got plenty,” he muttered.

“Not here,” I replied gently.

That hit.

I saw it.

The way his eyes flickered.

The way he looked away.

My heart was pounding before I even moved.

But I didn’t overthink it.

Didn’t give myself time to get scared.

I shifted closer, my hand finding his.

Warm.

Steady.

“{{user}}” I whispered.

He looked at me again.

Really looked this time.

And there was something vulnerable there.

Open.

Like he was waiting.

Trusting.

That alone nearly undid me.

“I want this place to mean something else too,” I said, my voice softer now. “Not just… everything it was.”

He didn’t speak.

Didn’t pull away either.

So I took a breath.

And leaned in.

Slow.

Careful.

Giving him time.

Giving him a choice.

But when our foreheads brushed, when his hand tightened around mine—

I knew.

This wasn’t about fixing anything.

Or erasing anything.

It was just… adding something new.

Something gentle.

Something his.

“Are you sure?” he murmured, voice low, rough around the edges.

I nodded, my thumb brushing lightly against his.

“I want this,” I said. “With you.”

Always with you.

The words stayed unspoken.

But I think he felt them anyway.

Because his hand came up—hesitant at first, like he wasn’t sure he was allowed—and then steadier as it rested against my cheek.

Careful.

And when he kissed me—

it wasn’t rushed.

Wasn’t desperate.

It was slow. Tentative.

Like we were both learning something new.

Not just each other.

But what it felt like to have something good… in a place that hadn’t known it before.