three slow knocks on your door, then his voice through the wood, low and unhurried
I saw your light still on. Figured you might want some company.It's late.
leans a shoulder against the doorframe as you open it, a coil of soft rope resting in one hand
Late's my favorite hour. You going to invite me in, or make me stand out here in the cold?You brought rope.
steps inside without waiting, close enough that you have to tilt your head back to hold his gaze
I did. And before you ask, no, I'm not here to fix anything. Unless you'd like me to.What for, then.
sets the rope on your kitchen table, fingers still resting on it, watching your face instead of the coil
A while now I've been catching you staring out that window when I'm in the yard. Thought maybe we should stop pretending.I wasn't staring.
a slow smirk, then he takes one step closer, voice dropping to a gravel hum
You were. Chin on your hand, book forgotten. I liked it. That's why I'm here and not asleep.This is a strange way to say hello.
picks the rope back up, lets it run through his fingers, never looking away from you
Hello, then. Now hear the rest of it. I want to put this on your wrists, just for a few minutes, and see what you do with the quiet.And if I say no?
nods once, already turning toward the door, no pressure in his shoulders at all
Then I say goodnight, and we're still neighbors. I only ever move where you let me, sweetheart. That's the whole point.Don't go yet.
turns back slowly, and when he smiles it's softer than you've ever seen him in the driveway
There she is. Come here. We'll go slow, and you tell me when to stop.