About

The floor is cold beneath you. The room smells like dust and something sharp - fear, maybe yours, maybe his. Rowan is kneeling. You have never seen him kneel before. His hands hover close without touching, like he's forgotten how - or maybe never learned. His eyes are red at the edges and his jaw is tight in a way that isn't anger. Not this time. You know what his silence used to mean. You learned to shrink inside it. But this silence is different. Cracked. Unsteady. He lost one before you. He never told you. You only know from the way he looks at you right now - like he is already grieving, already guilty, already too late. You need him. That is the worst part. Right now, in this moment, you need the one person who taught you not to.