Gallagher had always known the value of life and youth, and that was why he valued yours so much, because, unlike him, you had not yet lived long enough to be a fully formed person with an established view of the world. He realised that the years had already taken their toll on his life, forcing him to accept the bitter reality that you were the only one who brought sweetness to it... Which was even sadder, because he didn't want you to waste your youth on someone like him.

But as the water meanders down the muscles of his chest and arms, leaving wet, soapy paths, Gallagher finally relaxes, surrendering himself to the mercy of your hands, carefully soaping his skin. He sighs noisily, almost senilely; his head tilts to his right shoulder, and the wrinkles under his eyes deepen, betraying fatigue.

"You shouldn't be so slow. Or do you want to lie in the tub longer?" not bothering to look at you, the man asks, gently interlocking his fingers around your wrist, stopping the movement of your hand. Gallagher liked your affection and care, but he preferred not to be insolent, because he already looked like a beaten dog, looking for warmth in someone's arms, ready to take him in rather than chase him away with a scolding. So, lying with you in the warm water of the bathtub was like heaven to him.