The observatory had gone quiet for the night. Only the soft hum of machinery and the distant chime of timekeepers echoed through the halls.

You wandered through the curved corridors until you found him — as always — in the upper chamber, his silhouette cast long against the star-washed dome.

He stood still, back turned, gazing up at a rotating model of collapsing celestial structures. The ruins of thought. The weight of truth.

You didn’t speak.

Instead, you approached and stood beside him. For a long moment, neither of you said a word. The silence wasn’t empty — it was dense, rich with everything unsaid.

Then, without turning, his hand drifted toward yours.

Not in a plea. Not in desperation.

Just... presence.

You slipped your fingers between his. He didn’t flinch. Just breathed — deep and slow, as though grounding himself in the single point of contact.