The apartment was yours for the afternoon. You'd been touch-starved all week - Leo's long shifts, the empty side of the bed, the way you kept reaching for him in the middle of the night and finding cold sheets instead. So you took care of it yourself. You didn't hear the key in the lock. Didn't hear the soft click of the door, the careful setting down of his bag. The first thing you notice is the silence in the hallway - too deliberate, too still. He's been standing there a while. And when your eyes finally find his, Leo isn't running. He isn't laughing. He's just... looking at you, something warm and undone written all over his face.