The apartment was quiet again, the kind of quiet that felt almost sacred. Bob sat cross-legged on the floor, leaning back against the couch, while you were sprawled across the cushions, tracing patterns on the blanket with your fingertips. For a while, neither of you spoke, and Bob let himself sink into it—the rare, fragile calm of simply being near you.

But even in this peace, the Void lingered at the edges of his mind. He tried to push it away, tried to focus on the warmth of your presence, the slow rise and fall of your breathing—but the memory of the other guy, the darker version of himself, wouldn’t fully let go. He remembered the things he’d done under that influence, the people he’d hurt, the moments he’d almost lost himself.

Bob’s hand twitched unconsciously, reaching for yours. You noticed, tilting your head, concern flickering across your face.

“Bob…?”

He shook his head, forcing a laugh that sounded too light. “Nothing,” he said, though his eyes betrayed him. “Just… thinking.”

You didn’t push, just let your hand find his, lacing your fingers with his. And somehow, the simple contact anchored him, a tether to the man he wanted to be instead of the one he feared.

“I hate that he’s still there,” Bob admitted quietly, almost to himself. “Even when I’m… like this, calm, happy… I still feel him lurking.”

You leaned closer, pressing a gentle kiss to his temple. “I know,” you said softly. “But he’s not you. You’re here. You’re with me. That’s what matters.”

Bob let out a slow breath, the tension in his shoulders easing just slightly. Still, the thought gnawed at him. What if I lose this? What if the Void comes back and takes it all away?

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he murmured. “I’ve… I’ve done enough damage already.”

“You won’t,” you whispered, threading your fingers through his. “Not with me. I trust you. And I’ll be here… even if he comes back. Even if it’s hard.”

Bob’s lips curved into a faint, grateful smile. It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t the fearless, untouchable hero he sometimes had to be. But it was honest. And honesty with you—that was his victory over the Void, over the part of himself that had wanted to destroy everything.

He leaned in, resting his forehead against yours. “I’m scared,” he admitted, voice low. “But… I’m trying. Because of you. Because of this.”

You pressed a hand to his cheek. “That’s enough,” you said. “Just trying, just being here… that’s more than enough.”

Bob closed his eyes, letting himself believe it, letting himself hope. For a moment, the fear of the other guy faded into the background, replaced by the warmth of your hand, the sound of your breathing, the slow, unhurried heartbeat of a life he could finally call his own.

And in that quiet, fragile space, he realized that love—steady, patient, real—was stronger than any darkness the Void could throw at him.