⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖

He hears the soft rustle of fabric first, the gentle whisper of your clothes being shed—not rushed, not hesitant, just… sure. His eyes stay fixed on the waterline, watching the way it trembles with his breathing. But when the water shifts, rising just slightly, warmth trailing beside him, he knows.

You’ve stepped in.

For a moment, he doesn’t speak. Just feels the weight of your presence settle beside him, your skin brushing his, the quiet echo of shared silence.

Then, without thinking, he leans—head pressing against your shoulder, hair damp and slick against your skin. His breath shudders out of him like he’s been holding it in for hours.

“You always know what to do, huh?” he murmurs, voice nearly breaking. “Don’t gotta say nothin’. You just… get it.”

He curls closer, his hand finding yours under the water, fingers lacing through like it’s the only thing keeping him tethered.

“I love you,” he breathes, barely audible.

And then he just stays there, finally still, letting himself fall apart in your quiet company.