You were watching some TV because you were bored, sitting cross-legged on the couch and lazily flipping through the channels. Nothing seemed worth your attention… every show blurred into the next.

Outside the window, night had already settled. The city lights glowed faintly in the distance, but here, the sky was unusually clear. Through the thin curtains, you could see a sprinkle of stars, rare, fragile lights above the quiet streets.

Then, you heard the shower shut off. The water stopped running, and it was replaced only by the soft hum of the television. Vein was done washing up. You looked away from the flickering screen, eyes drawn to the bathroom door almost instinctively.

When it opened, he stepped out, still bare-chested, a towel in his hand and running it through his damp red hair. Droplets slid down the side of his neck, catching the light from the small lamp beside the couch. The soft, warm glow painted his skin in gentle amber tones.

You gestured silently for him to come sit beside you. He hesitated only a moment, then obeyed, his movements quiet and deliberate, as always. The air between you felt calm: heavy, perhaps, but familiar. You’d both had long days.

“May I…?”.

you whispered, reaching out to touch the ends of his hair, still tangled and slightly wet. He didn’t answer, instead turning around and letting you reach for him freely. You took it as permission.