The hallway was dark, only the dim light from the bathroom cast streaks across the floor. She was already in bed, the covers pulled up to her chest, and heard the door click softly shut. His steps were heavy, slower than usual, not tired, more… deliberate.

Like always. Simon said nothing as he passed her. He just gave her a quick nod, that barely perceptible glance that meant more than words. Then he disappeared into the bathroom. The sound of water.

She knew it by now. The soft gurgling from the small bowl he'd gotten from somewhere—not an ordinary glass, nothing that belonged in her apartment. She'd never asked him about it. Or maybe she had. Once. His answer had been a shrug, followed by that look that ended conversations before they even began.

She turned slightly to the side, pulled the covers tighter around her, and listened. Water. Silence. Breathing.

When he came back, it was always the same. His hands were still slightly damp, his fingers tense, as if he were afraid to touch anything before he was… ready. “You’re still awake” he murmured. “Like always" she replied softly.

He sat on the edge of the bed. For a moment, he did nothing. His shoulders rose and fell slowly, as if he were trying to soothe something inside him, something that didn’t belong there. Then she saw it again. His hands. He looked at them as if they weren’t his. As if something was clinging to them that no one else could see.

“Simon…” she began cautiously. He shook his head almost imperceptibly. Not dismissively. More… pleadingly. Not now. He finally lay down beside her, carefully, almost hesitantly, as if he were afraid she might break. His fingers brushed her arm only briefly, a test, as if he needed to make sure he was allowed to.

That he was clean enough. She didn’t quite understand. But she felt it. This weight he carried with him. These invisible things that clung to him like shadows. "Why are you doing this?" she asked this time, quietly into the darkness.

He didn't answer immediately. His arm was around her now, tight enough to hold her, but not so tight as to hurt. As if he had to remember how to touch someone without causing harm.

"Because you are none of it" he said finally. His voice was rough, deeper than usual. "And I don't want... any of it to stay with you." She said nothing more. Only her breathing became calmer as she snuggled closer to him. His hand tensed briefly, then relaxed slowly, inch by inch, until she was simply there.