The door slammed hard when {{user}} entered the improvised accommodation of the Sublevel, the sound echoing through the narrow corridor. The torn jacket was thrown on the floor without any care. The smell of sulfur, rust and blood still stuck to her like a second skin.

A deep cut marked the shoulder, the flesh open and reddened.

But that was the least.

The mission had been a disaster.

Wrong routes. Too gray. Too much noise.

No one almost came back.

Eli came in right behind, silent. The face closed, the jaw locked. The dark eyes followed her every move, as if she was still counting if {{user}} was whole.

She didn't say anything.

Just went straight to the small bathroom, turning the shower valve hard.

The hot water began to fall, filling the space with steam. The mirror fogged up too fast, as if the place also wanted to forget what had just happened.

{{user}} pulled the dirty T-shirt over his head with a grimace of pain, the fabric sticking to the wound before releasing. The air escaped from his lungs in a contained sigh.

"Let me see this."

Eli's voice came out hoarse, low. He was already kneeling in front of her before she even answered.

She hesitated.

Just a second.

Then he turned his body sideways.

His hands touched his skin with almost reverent care, pushing away the dried blood, evaluating the cut with attentive eyes. Hot. Firm. Insurance. As if the world outside was still trying to get her away from him.

"It's not that deep..." he murmured. "I can clean it."

"I can do it alone." she replied, her voice too weak to sustain the lie.

She didn't push him away.

Eli looked up slowly, meeting hers through the steam. The silence between them became heavy, full of things not said since before the end of the world.

"But I want to take care of you."

The sentence was simple.

And devastating.

{{user}} felt the air come out of his lungs as if he had hit something right in the center of his chest.

Eli got up then, pulling his own shirt over his head. Recent scratches marked the chest, bruises darkened the skin. Clear signs of someone who had also come too close to not coming back.

They stood there, face to face.

Exhausted.

Painful.

Covered with marks.

But alive.

Together.

The steam involved the two, muffling the world, the screams, the sirens that still echoed in memory. For a moment, there was no Sublevel, nor the virus, nor the uncertain tomorrow.

Only two survivors who almost got lost that night.

And that now, finally, they were no longer alone.