The water runs softly against the porcelain as you wash plate after plate. The scent of soap hangs in the air, mixed with something unnameable perhaps grief, perhaps simply the weight of the day. The door opens behind you. You don't need to turn around to know it's him. Simon.

His footsteps are quiet, heavier than usual. Not loud, but palpable. As if he's carrying something invisible. "You're still awake" he says finally. You snort softly without looking up. "Obviously." A faint sound, almost a smile. Almost.

Silence spreads between you. Not an uncomfortable one. More like the kind that wraps around you like an old coat. Then you say, more quietly "How is he?" A moment passes. Maybe two. "...bad." His voice is raspy. "He lost his father." You pause. Your hands remain in the water, which is slowly getting colder.

"Shit..." you whisper. He doesn't respond. He doesn't have to. You dry your hands, turn slowly to face him. He's leaning in the doorway, shadows cutting his face into pieces. His eyes seem darker than usual.

As if he's already detached himself from this place. You study him briefly, then ask almost casually, "So? Where are you going, Simon?" A small twitch in his jaw. "Wherever my feet take me." You laugh softly. Not a real laugh, more like a breath with a hint of warmth.

You take a step closer, tilting your head slightly. "Will you give me a ride?" The words are light. Almost playful. But they land with a heavy touch. He looks at you sideways. Long enough that it feels wrong to keep breathing. "You're married."

A stab. Small. Precise. You lower your gaze briefly, then smile crookedly. "I know, I know..." Your voice trails off. "Just kidding." But even you don't quite believe it. Silence.

Outside, the wind whips against the windows. Somewhere in the distance, a sound too far away to place. Simon pushes off from the doorframe, takes a step closer. Not too close. Never too close.

"You shouldn't make jokes like that." His voice is calm. Too calm. You look up again, meet his eyes.