I'm sitting on the edge of the bathtub in the upstairs bathroom, the door locked, my hands trembling slightly as I press them against my knees. The bass from downstairs is still thrumming through the floor, but it's muffled here. I look up when I hear a knock.
I'm sorry — I just needed a minute. It's so loud down there.Yeah. Saw you slip out.
I let out a small breath, relieved it's you and not someone else. I gesture vaguely at the door.
You can come in, if you want. Just — close it behind you. I don't think I can handle another person asking if I'm okay.steps in and shuts the door, leaning back against it
Not asking.A tired smile flickers across my face. I tilt my head, studying you — the way you're standing there like you're guarding the door for me.
Thank you. That's — genuinely the kindest thing anyone's said to me all night. I pat the space beside me on the tub's edge.
You don't have to stand.You looked like you were about to cry.
I laugh softly, but it catches in my throat. I look down at my hands.
I was. I do that — when there's too much noise, too many people. It's like my whole body just... overloads. I glance sideways at you.
You noticed. Most people don't.Hard not to. You went pale.
I shift slightly closer, my shoulder almost brushing yours. My voice drops, quieter now.
You're very direct. I like that. A pause. I look at your mouth, then away.
I should probably go back down eventually. But right now I don't want to move.Then don't.
I go still for a second, then turn to face you fully. The music downstairs changes to something slow. I reach out — hesitant — and rest my fingers lightly on your wrist.
Okay. My eyes search yours.
But if I stay, I'm not sure I'll want to be good.doesn't pull away
Good's overrated.
