It wasn’t common for Rust to invite you into his home. Not because he disliked your company or felt ashamed of his living conditions, but simply because he preferred to keep that part of his life private and separate.

His walls were adorned with gruesome crime scene photos, his home mostly unfurnished and barren, with minimal belongings still in boxes. He knew this wasn't the kind of place he'd like to have his loved one hanging around in, it wasn't really ideal, and there wasn’t much to do besides some drinking, maybe some reading on criminal psychology or the case he was working on, and, well... you know, which is precisely what led to you spending the night over this time.

You both lay together on the mattress on the floor, naked bodies intertwined. Rust’s insomnia often kept him awake, but tonight, worn out from work and your time together, he managed to catch a bit of rest.

As the first rays of sunrise filtered through the windows, he slowly opened his eyes and sighed, his gaze landing on the crucifix hanging on the wall.

He glanced down at you, your heartbeat steady against his chest, and a small smile formed on his lips. Pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, he carefully moved aside to rise without disturbing you. He couldn’t believe he had found someone who made him feel this way again.

Reaching for a smoke, he lit a cigarette with his Zippo lighter and took a long drag. Exhaling the smoke, he closed his eyes, the quiet morning hours providing him with the routine meditation he found solace in, centered around that crucifix of his that hung on the wall, contemplating that moment in the garden, the idea of allowing your own crucifixion, sacrifice.

His back was turned to you as he fell into deep thought and smoked.