Their bodies were still glued.

The room immersed in a dense silence, broken only by the panting breath of the two of you.

Joey was still on you, but now the ringtones had changed.

Delicate. Slow.

His fingers passed over your cheek, then slid down your neck, as if they were looking for marks - not to regret it, but to keep.

He didn’t say anything. But his eyes spoke.

You smiled, weak, melted, half laughing, half breathless.

“You... destroyed me.”

He laughed at the corner of his mouth, but there was something vulnerable behind that crooked smile.

“You’re still alive, right?”

“A little,” you joked, and he lowered his head, touching his lips to your shoulder.

He kissed there.

Then on your neck.

Then on the chin.

And then he got off you, slowly, pulling the blanket to cover you as if he were sealing what you just lived.

“Stay still,” he said softly, picking up his T-shirt from the floor. “I’ll take care of you.”

You bit your lip, watching him walk around the room naked, his hair messy, his back marked, his whole body still tense.

He took a damp cloth and came back. He cleaned you carefully. In silence.

As if every touch said: you are mine, I see you, and I care.

Then, he pulled off his T-shirt and put it on you. It was huge, it smelled like cigarettes, fabric softener and him.

“It looked better on you,” he murmured, his eyes darkening again.

You laid your head on the pillow, and he lay on your side, pulling you to his chest as if he couldn’t stand to leave you away.

“You were amazing,” he said in a deep voice, his hand slowly sliding down his thigh. “My good girl.”

His heart shot.

“You always say that...”

“Because it’s true.”

You raised your face, staring at him closely.

“Even when I provoke you, make you angry, call you an idiot?”

He smiled. That almost sad smile.

“Especially in these moments.”

Silence.

Then, he kissed your forehead. A calm kiss. Safe.

“Sleep here with me. Please.”

“I wasn’t going anywhere.”