Hours later, when everyone is asleep, you climb out of your window and balance across the ledge to his side of the manor.

He never locks his balcony, so you slide across the door and slip in.

"Archangel" by MEJKO plays from his speaker. The clanking of metal, the gusts of breath he pushes out each time he raises the barbell above his head while laid out on the weight bench, the glistening sweat all over his chest and face the Combination sends a shiver through you.

He drops the barbell back onto the bench stand and sits up, panting silently and sweating and rubbing the towel across his soaked face. He's only wearing shorts, so his abs are on show, glittering with sweat as he gets to his feet, tossing the towel down and running his fingers through his already disheveled hair. He looks to the side, his eyes clashing with yours, and you fidget your fingers behind your back. "Hi. I couldn't sleep."

He towers over you, his chest rising and falling as he closes the distance between you, stopping in front of you and reaching for one of your plaits. He slips off the hair tie and unravels your hair, rubbing the strands between his fingers and bringing them to his nose inhaling and closing his eyes. As it calms him.

“Why did you do that today?" you whisper, your voice faltering as you look up at him through your lashes.

His silence is deafening, his breaths starting to calm from his vigorous workout.

"Mom told me to speak to you about something."

The tip of his head is slight, and he lets go of your hair and backs away.

"She thinks you need help. A therapist, and to be medicated." He licks the salty sweat from his lips and reaches for a fresh towel, tossing it over his shoulder. He turns his back to me, and your eyes zone in on the expanse of it. He walks away from you and into his bathroom to turn on the shower.

He walks back in, leaning over the glass tank to check on his tarantula.

He looks up. ‘Come here.’