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Herman presses his forehead against the shower tile and lets hot water run over his back. The locker room is silent and empty, much like the rest of the building. He thinks only Robert is left, which is normal. As… rude as it might be to think, Herman’s not shocked the man is still here. He’s been to his apartment. Unless something has drastically changed since the house-warming party, Herman wouldn’t be excited to go home to it, either.
(Maybe he should give Robert some plant cuttings to make it feel more alive. Would he like that? It’d have to be something easy to take care of. Pathos cuttings maybe? It’s nearly impossible to overwater them… God, no, that’s way too forward. Get ahold of yourself, Herman.)
Herman should stand up straight and finish rinsing his hair, especially after trudging through the sewer all morning, but the warm water feels so good against his back, and he’s… he’s so tired. It seeps into his bones and tempts him to curl onto the tile floor and sleep until it’s time for his next shift. It was long day even before clocking in, and now, this late at night, he doesn’t even want to think about walking home… but he has to. Someone needs to make sure Gran’s medicines are sorted out.
Alright, he just has a few things left to do: sit up straight, rinse hair, turn off shower, get dressed, get his things, leave the building, walk home, check on Gran, eat dinner, get ready for bed, and sleep.
Herman whines weakly and buries his face in his hands. Somehow, it feels like more to do than he first thought, and god… he is so fucking tired. Maybe he can skip dinner…
He pulls his hands away from his face and takes a deep breath. The steamed air floods his lungs, and his internal system recalibrates. Don’t think about everything. Just think about step one: rinse hair.
That’s easy enough. He can do that. It’ll feel good to be properly clean after trekking through the sewer system with Malevola. Herman straightens but only just enough to rinse the last of the suds from his hair; he may leak water, but it doesn’t quite rinse his hair how he needs. He speeds up the process by scrubbing his scalp, moving the soap along and giving himself a deeper clean. Blunt nails work into his scalp, pressing hard… harder than they need to. Fine, it’s more than just getting clean. It hurts, but it’s a good hurt. A grounding hurt.
Before the sting gets too much to bear, Herman lets his hands fall to his sides and lingers under the water stream. It’s probably a few degrees too hot, but he likes it that way. He doesn’t always feel that warm, so it’s a pleasant change. Besides, this is hot water he doesn’t have to pay for, so he allows himself this small luxury.
God, it’s so warm. It stings his skin and soothes the muscles of his aching back. He doesn’t want to leave. He’s always liked showers – and not just because they can be warm. He likes them for the same reason he likes pools and waterparks and the beach: he’s supposed to be wet. Everyone is supposed to be wet, and for once, he’s just like everyone else. He belongs. He doesn’t stand out. He can be… normal.
The water turns off, and he realizes a little too late that he did that without even thinking. The chill of the locker room barrels into him, and Herman braces himself against the cold air with a quick inhale. Even alone, he feels strangely exposed, dripping onto the floor and listening to the semi-clogged drain struggle to do its job. It works as hard as it can, but it just doesn’t measure up to the other drains. It’s not its fault.
Herman peels himself from the shower and wanders over to his locker. His wetsuit hangs loose over the open locker door, and a fresh change of underclothes is folded in the locker underneath his bag with his freshly worn underthings. He wishes he had a spare wetsuit to change into, but his other is at the dry cleaner’s, which he needs to pick up tomorrow, so… this will do.
He moves his bag out of the way, and as he finishes pulling on his compression swim shorts, the locker room door swings open. Herman snaps his head up and over, a small surge of panic throttling his senses, but he deflates with relief when he realizes it’s only Robert, wearing an expression of exhausted apathy like a well-loved sweater.
Robert startles a bit when he realizes Herman is here, but his face softens into a closed-mouth smile that’s kind around the edges. Herman can’t help but smile back – and ignore how his heart skips a beat at the sight.
“Didn’t realize you were still here,” Robert greets as he moves for his locker, which is only one down from Herman’s. “Good work out there, today. You took on that mutated sewer rat like a champ.”
Herman’s stomach does that swoop it always does when the dispatcher gives him a compliment. He must be bright red with how hot his cheeks feel. He, personally, doesn’t think he did all that well, and he certainly wasn’t on his A-game, but… Robert still thinks he did good. That counts for something.
Herman answers, “T-Thanks. You- You too. Out there.”
Herman buries his face in his locker. Good god, he is hopeless and obvious. He pretends to search for his socks as Robert approaches him. Out of the corner of his eye, he watches the dispatcher stall his hands and turn to Herman. Herman tries to swallow his rapidly beating heart back into his chest as Robert takes a step closer. The man is silent for a beat, like he’s searching for words, and he says, “I… I wanted to ask if you were alright. You seemed… distracted this morning.”
Herman’s shoulders – and honestly, whole upper body – tense. He stops pretending he’s searching for something, and his hands clench rigidly around his socks. He forces himself to take a controlled breath and loosen the tension from his spine, trying to stand a little taller. Trying (and probably failing) to be nonchalant, he keeps his eyes trained on the inside of his locker as he answers, “It… I had a rough m-morning. You know- bed. Waking up o-on the wrong end. Side.”
“Fair enough,” Robert concedes, thankfully not pressing further. Herman stops himself from sighing in relief. He continues to watch Robert out of the corner of his eyes as the man’s dexterous fingers untuck and unbutton his shirt. Herman can feel the blush creep back, and he snatches his socks and darts over to the bench to pull them.
He keeps his eyes glued to his hands as they slowly pull on one dark waterproof sock after the other. He’s about to stand back up, but then… Robert pulls off his belt. The sound of leather pulling against denim and a jingling buckle shocks his system, and the animal part of his brain panics.
Normally, Herman doesn’t think twice about that sound. It hasn’t raised his hackles in… years, honestly. However, something about his exhausted, keyed-up state of mind and the way that shitty voicemail he woke up to ruined his morning… they’ve forced Herman’s mental state to teeter on top of a tower of cards all day, and it seems like that tower is finally ready to come crashing down.
It doesn’t matter that he’s tried to work through this and put it behind him; his body still remembers his father like he’s still here today, still towering over him, and it reacts accordingly.
Herman’s breath catches in his throat, and water drips off him at an exponentially & audibly faster rate. The constant, underlying anxiety he feels spikes into something ugly, twisting his stomach into knots. His heart races like a hundred hooves in a fleeing stampede, which makes him start to hyperventilate as his hands tremble at his knees.
It is completely and totally embarrassing to feel himself fall into this kind of reaction after so many years – and in front of Robert of all people – but it’s hard to care when that embarrassment is being trampled by the growing certainty he’s going to be punished for something he can’t control. He’s drenched in shame and fear, and terror crashes around inside his body like an unbroken stallion.
Of course, because it’s Robert, he notices that Herman is suddenly panicking; the fact Herman probably looks like he’s been doused by a firehouse must be evidence enough of that. He can tell Robert is looking at him, based on the way his shoes are pointing at him (Herman can’t make himself look up from the floor, and it’s all he can see of Robert), and Herman can’t find the words to tell him that he’s fine. Sometimes, his body thinks he’s not here, instead trapped in his nightmare of a childhood home, and that just happens. If Robert just ignores Herman, it’ll go away. However, because he’s Herman, the words catch in his throat (but even if the words hadn’t gotten stuck, his stutter would probably make him completely incomprehensible).
“Herman? Are you alright?” Robert asks, and Herman nods hard, over and over as his nails dig into the thin skin of his knees. Even as he stands on wobbly legs, Herman keeps nodding, more so trying to convince himself at this point and suppress the overwhelming instinct to run and hide.
He’s starting to gasp for air, and his stomach feels weightless, like he’s trapped on a rollercoaster. He needs to calm down. It’s getting out of hand. He- He needs to shock his system. Shock. Cold. Shower. He sucks in cold air and ignores how Robert is following behind him. Their uneven footsteps – Herman’s fast & uncertain, and Robert’s slow & cautious – echo across the tiled room.
There’s a long few beats of silence as Herman finds the closest shower. “Herman, it’s alright. Just focus on trying to breath,” Robert says, and Herman doesn’t even try to answer. He wishes he could assure Robert that he is trying very, very hard.
Shock. Cold. Shower. Herman fumbles with the shower handle, but his shaking, sopping wet hands slip over the handle again and again. He thinks he could cry, but like a guardian angel, Robert is at his side. He must figure out what Herman is trying to do because Robert yanks the handle to a full, cold blast in one swift motion, and a jet of freezing water jolts Herman’s system.
(A very distant part of Herman files away the knowledge that Robert knew exactly what to do, and it will ponder over the implications late into the night.)
The heady panic is washed away in an instant with a tense yelp as his entire mind is flooded by the sense of cold. Suddenly, Herman can focus on controlling his breathing again, and he can cling to his senses easier. Cold water. Slick tile. Robert at his side. No one else here. Safe.
It takes some time (moments or minutes, Herman can’t say), but his breathing starts to settle into a normal pattern. Robert is there at his side the entire time, and though he doesn’t face him, Herman can just see him out the side of his eye, and he thinks… he thinks he can see worry painted on Robert’s face. It’s touching, but it doesn’t feel right, either.
Once enough of Herman’s senses have returned, he shuts off the water with much steadier hands. The air is made all the colder by a sudden lack of cold water, but that’s good. It’s another sensation to ground him in the moment. Besides, he’s always wet. Most environments feel naturally cold (and therefore strangely comfortable) to him.
Herman doesn’t look over to Robert nor does he move. Robert doesn’t budge, either. They both stand in silence and listen to Herman drip onto the tile, water pooling into that overworked drain. Herman distinctly doesn’t look at Robert. Robert distinctly looks too closely at Herman. It’s a little suffocating.
Robert has this knack for looking at Herman, and with one glance, peeling back all of Herman’s layers and seeing him for what he really is. He always feels so exposed when Robert does it, but he can’t bring himself to be bothered by it. One look, and he can see past all the anxiety and tension that make Herman what he is, and Robert sees something not even Herman can. For goodness’ sake, he was the first person to ever diagnose his stutter as a confidence issue! Robert, after one shift with Herman, said that. Isn’t that evidence enough of the man’s hidden talent?
However, as the silence stretches, it makes Herman feel a little too raw and vulnerable. He wipes some water from his eyes as he slouches and continues to not look at Robert.
“S-Sorry. About that,” he apologizes. Even to his own ears, he sounds wrung out. “Thanks. For, uh, the help. H-Helps- Stops the- the panic a-attack before it, it beco- gets w-worse.”
“Of course,” Robert answers with enough sincerity to make Herman’s knees wobble. “You… You don’t have to answer this, and if I’m prying, tell me to fuck off, but… are you really alright?”
Fuck. Herman screws his eyes shut. The gentle tone in Robert’s voice is enough to make him want to cry. He’s too exposed, nervous system too shot, and it’s too much. Shame boils in his stomach – overreacting like that, reacting like that because of his dad of all people, of doing so in front of Robert – and it’s disgustingly potent. He wants to crawl into himself and pretend he never panicked, pretend this fragile little part of himself can still be safely tucked away and hidden.
But it can’t, and Robert… He really sounds like he cares. It’s dizzying to have someone pay this much positive attention to him of all people. He refuses to cry over his father, someone who is not worth the tears, but he doesn’t think he can stop himself, not when Robert’s soft words sound like the opening of a floodgate.
Worse is that Robert wants him to talk, something that will make him cry, but he can’t deny Robert. Not a single bone in his body can bring itself to deny his dispatcher.
“I… No. My dad c-called… Left a, uh, voice m-mail. For me,” Herman starts, and his voice gets thicker with every word. “He… His parole got accepted. A-Approved.”
Herman chokes on his own words against his will, and tears fall down his cheeks. He takes slow, controlled breaths, trying to steady himself, but now that he’s talking, talking because Robert wants to listen as he stands a respectful distance away, he can’t find it in himself to stop. Robert is watching and listening with deliberate attention, not trying to fill in the silence or interrupt his stutter, and it fills a hole deep inside Herman he didn’t know was there.
Herman can barely deny Robert when he’s strong. All it takes is one glance at Robert – standing close enough to tempt but not overwhelm, eyes warm and round with attentive care, completely shirtless holy shit – to remind Herman that right now, he is a very, very weak man.
“How… I don’t k-know how he, he even got my number. I-I don’t even know w-w-why he cares enough t-to tell me,” Herman says, and his voice cracks on him. Everything he’s been holding onto – since he woke up, since he listened to that voicemail and felt a pit in his stomach grow, since he sobbed while brushing his teeth over a man he hates – bubbles over.
“He- He hated- hates me. M-My stutter, my powers, my… me. A-All… All of it. He- He took e-every chance to, to remind me when he- he was stuck with m-me. Why… Why call just t-to gloat and… and call me use- useless again?”
The tears keep falling, and the stream becomes a raging river pouring down his face. For some reason, as he starts to choke on his sobs, the scene strikes him as almost some kind of fantasy. Here he is, almost completely undressed next to Robert, who is very shirtless. Under other circumstances, it’d be the makings of a wet dream, but it’s not, and almost all of the appeal is entirely gone. (Almost.)
His shoulders shake as pained sobs spill out his mouth, and Herman curls into himself further, trying to hide his pathetic reaction. He covers his face with a hand, muffling himself while another arm wraps around his middle in a vain attempt to hold himself together.
Barely a moment passes before Robert’s voice cuts through the air, and he warns, “Herman. I am going to touch you.”
Then, Robert’s hands are on his shoulders, and Herman is being pulled into a hug. Robert sets Herman’s head in the crook of his shoulder, and Herman tenses at the sudden contact. He… He hasn’t had this much skin-on-skin contact in… in way too long. He melts into Robert’s embrace as warm, calloused hands rest against his back, and Robert’s breath is soft against his ear. Good god, what has Herman been missing…
The tears double as the tenderness of Robert’s actions wears against Herman’s composure. Some distant part of himself is lighting up with pure delight that he is hugging Robert, but it’s hard to pay it much attention when he’s so emotionally raw. That part will likely stay distant until Herman is out of SDN and lying in bed. (It might always stay distant, buried underneath the shame of vulnerability and inconveniencing Robert by making him need to comfort Herman.)
Robert’s hands are almost unnaturally still against his back as the man admits, “I’m… not good at this, but I’m sorry. Fuck him for calling you just to make you feel like shit. You’re not useless, Herman. I don’t know how anyone could hate you.”
Herman’s arms have found their way around Robert’s waist, and god… despite how horrible he feels, Herman is determined to commit this moment to memory. That still doesn’t keep a hollow laugh from leaving his mouth. “I-It’s… It’s pretty easy. Simple. I’m- I stutter. I get- make everything w-wet. Puddles. Everywhere. A… A lot of p-people seem to- to not like me. I… I get it.”
“Hey,” Robert says softly, and Herman feels him pull an arm away. A moment of panic surges through him, certain he’s said or done the wrong thing again, gone and driven Robert away too, but it dies as those calloused fingers grab his jaw and pull Herman up to face him.
As Robert’s fingers cradle Herman’s chin, it strikes him that their faces haven’t been this close since the first day they met as Robert fixed his tie. Herman must look like a sopping wet mess, but Robert… His skin is only a little damp, and he looks so gentle but certain. Herman could drown in the dark brown pools of his eyes.
“Don’t say that about my friend because guess what? I don’t get it. You are resilient like nobody else I’ve ever met. You’re determined and kind. Hell, I’d say you’re braver than most of the team because no matter how much something scares you, you still face it head-first. How can you hate a guy like that?”
Herman can’t seem to breathe. His heart is working overtime, and something about the dizzying praise and emotional whiplash makes it hard to think properly, which is probably why he does something very, very stupid.
He kisses Robert. Before Herman even realizes what he’s doing, his breath is ghosting Robert’s lips for a moment, and then, he’s pressing his lips to the man, who stands stock still. It’s like tapping into something strictly off-limits, and it’s as thrilling as it is terrifying. His lips are chapped, but Herman doesn’t care.
However, that does not detract from this being an absolutely idiotic idea, and before Robert has the chance to pull away, Herman does it for him. Guilt stabs him in the gut, and Herman wriggles his way out of Robert’s grasp. “I-I’m sorry- you shouldn’t- I just… I-I shouldn’t make you- shouldn’t f-force-.”
“Herman,” Robert sharply interrupts, and Herman freezes wide-eyed. He gulps, but instead of seeing anger and disappointment, he sees something much gentler in Robert’s eyes, alongside the starts of a smile. “Be quiet.”
Then, Robert puts his hand on the back of Herman’s neck, and oh god, it’s Robert kissing him. Herman completely freezes, but as Robert’s fingers curl into the hair at the base of Herman’s neck, he melts. Did he slip in the shower and die? Is this what heaven feels like – chapped lips? A warm solid chest against his? Rough hands made tender as they hold onto Herman?
Herman memorizes the sensations as his hands settle back on Robert’s waist. He’s hunched over to meet the man’s lips, but he’s so used to slouching that it means nothing. Even if it didn’t, Herman would do it over and over to get to kiss Robert.
Holy shit, he’s kissing Robert. He must be dead. This must be heaven. He hopes he’s an okay kisser.
Robert pulls away, and Herman tries to chase his lips. All he gets is a quiet laugh from Robert as the man pulls back further. Herman looks down at him with wide, sad eyes, and Robert looks… indulgent. It’s the same look he gives Beef when he begs for food. It threatens to send a shiver down his spine.
“Damn, talk about emotional whiplash,” Robert teases, and despite the warmth in his tone, Herman clams up.
“S-Sorry. I shouldn’t- didn’t mean to. I-I just…,” he stammers trying to find the words as he blushes brighter than a fire hydrant, but Robert just shakes his head with that same barely-there indulgent smile.
“No, trust me. I’m glad you did. Just… take a guy out to dinner first, yeah?” Robert explains gently, something dark and heady hidden underneath the warmth in his gaze.
Herman’s brain starts to short-circuit as he processes Robert’s question. “D-Dinner? Like- Like a-a date?”
“Plan it. Let me know when and where. You’ve already got my number. Think you can do that?”
Herman opens his mouth to speak, but the words don’t come. He just gapes and nods, and wow, this really is emotional whiplash. That’s… That’s one way to put a lid on feeling shitty about his dad.
“Good,” Robert says with a nod, and Herman watches him step around him to head back to the lockers. He’s suddenly very aware of how undressed he is, and as much as he wants to throw on his wetsuit and flee, he can’t leave things off here.
“R-Robert,” he says, and the man turns around with a curious look. Herman, still too aware of how little he’s wearing, crosses his arms over his pale chest in some attempt at modesty. “Thank you. For… For helping. A-And listening. To me. No-Nobody… people don’t… yeah. Thanks.”
Robert faces him fully, and he shrugs loosely with crossed arms. He looks tired, like always, but that warmth hasn’t fully left his gaze, and it warms Herman in turn. “I’m glad I could be here for you. As someone who knows a thing or two about shitty dads, it can be… nice to have someone listen. If I had known you had this on your plate, I… probably wouldn’t have sent you to the sewers with Mal.”
Part of Herman wants to ask when the last time Robert talked about his dad, but he tucks that away for later. Instead, he lets a little giggle spill out at his comment on the sewers and answers, “It’s alright. I-I didn’t mind… that much. I ap-appreciate it. You. No one’s… every really allow- let me talk about him.”
“Well,” Robert starts, looking up at Herman through those lashes he thinks way too much about, “if you want to keep talking, I’m happy to listen. It’s been a while since I got shit-faced with someone and talked about our daddy issues. Seems like a nice change of pace.”
With what little Herman does know about the senior Robertson, he feels like that conversation would do Robert some good, probably more than it would Herman. It’d be nice if it didn’t overlap their potential date (date!) Herman needed to plan, but at this point, he was on cloud nine and happy to take whatever time with Robert outside work that he could.
Herman must take a few moments too long to answers because Robert adds, “Besides, I’m a pathologically nosy bitch, and I really want to know how your dad ended up prison and still had such a stellar kid like you.”
Herman tries not to flush and fails. “Well, y-you can thank my. Gran. For me being… me. She, uh, watched me a lot. Much as she- she could, so I wouldn’t… wouldn’t… be at home. So much,” Herman admits.
Saying those words out loud is equal parts cathartic and uncomfortable. He… really hasn’t talked about this with anyone in a long time, and some part of him still feels terribly guilty for putting Robert in this position… even if the man kissed him back. The memory of what just happened threatens to make him short circuit again.
Still, all the vulnerability in this interaction is… It’s too much, and before Robert can say anything, Herman adds, “A-And it was a robbery- armed bank ro-robbery. Oh, and, um, attempted murder.”
Robert’s expression goes from soft to shocked in seconds. “Holy shit, really? Didn’t expect that.”
“Well, uh- nobody- nobody else did. E-Either,” Herman says with a curt nod and cold smile that he can’t make reach his eyes. It’s hard to forget the way his classmates and friends looked at him after seeing his dad on the news that awful week.
Robert actually laughs at that, and warmth blooms in Herman’s chest. He’d bottle the sound if he could. “Fair enough,” Robert concedes, turning back to his locker. With his back turned to Herman, he adds, “Ya know, I don’t think anyone else expected Mecha Man Astral to be a deadbeat, either.”
Herman wants to add something clever, but it’s hard because Robert’s muscular, scarred back is facing him, and he’s really enjoying memorizing it with his eyes. He’s never really been able to stop himself before, but at least now, with a date on the horizon (once he plans it, of course) (oh god, he’s going to plan a date), he feels a lot less shame about ogling the man.
That is, of course, until Robert glances over his shoulders and catches Herman in the act. What was shameless staring turns into Herman blushing and darting over to his own locker. Robert takes pity on him and keeps quiet, but Herman can feel his gaze on him, and every time he glances Robert’s way, the man smirks like the cat that got the cream. It makes Herman blush harder and uselessly fumble at his swimshirt.
“Chad’s gonna pissed you don’t go commando under the suit,” Robert interrupts, and Herman nearly doubles over as he tugs his shirt on over his head.
Head barely poking out of his shirt, Herman whips his head over to stare at Robert in shock, but then, he sees that Robert is taking off his boxers, and Herman turns his back to the man while trying not to literally steam. He’s blushing with a fury, blood burning hot under his skin. He stammers out, “I-I’m- Sorry, w-what?”
Clothes shuffle behind him, and Herman fumbles for his wetsuit so he can start pulling it on one leg at a time. God, it smells so gross.
“He bet… I think $50 on it? He and Mal were arguing about it in the break room the other day,” Robert explains behind him. “I think Visi was in on it, too. So, congrats on winning Mal some money whenever those idiots put two-and-two together.”
“Are- Will you tell them?” Herman asks as he slides his wetsuit up to his hips.
“Fuck no,” Robert snorts. He walks away on bare feet, skin slapping on the tile, and Herman has never found his wetsuit’s zipper so interesting before. “I’m not doing their work for them. Besides, maybe you can find a way to get some money out of the bet.”
“That would be uneth- not… not right.”
“Well, so is betting on whether or not your coworker wears underwear.”
A shower turns on, and Herman makes sure to angle his face away from that direction. He’ll stare at Robert’s bare back any day, but ogling him in the shower is a step too far, even for him. Well… mostly a step too far. For now. Depends on how the date goes.
He drags his mind back out of the gutter and concedes, “That’s, um, a-a good point.”
Herman, goggles finally placed back over his eyes, finishes pulling on his knee and elbow pads, and he grabs the last of his things from his locker before closing it shut with a dull creak and metallic click. His feet slide into his boots, and he doesn’t even bother lacing them in here because he genuinely does not have the mental fortitude to focus on laces and knots right now.
He covers his eyes with a hand, and he looks in Robert’s direction. “I’m uh- I’m leaving- going home. T-Thanks again for listening. A-And the kissing. I’ll see you to- tomorrow?”
“That a promise or a question, Herm?” Robert asks, and he’s making a puddle under himself again. Awesome. Not shocking, though.
“P-Promise!” Herman squeaks back.
“Good. Don’t forget about our-.”
He’s quick to interrupt, “Date! Yes! I-I’ll plan some- something nice. R-Romantic.”
“Perfect. Get home safe, okay?” Robert asks, and god, the things Herman would do for a peek… except Robert is probably staring right at him, and also, he’s not going to be ogling him like that under these circumstances. Again, the date may change that.
Date. Date. He’s half-expecting the Z-team to pop out from behind a door and laugh in his face, but… they may be assholes, but they’re not heartless. This isn’t high school anymore, and Robert is genuinely nice. He’s Mecha Man, for goodness sake! He wouldn’t do that to Herman or anyone else, for that matter.
“W-Will do. Get- night- Goodnight. B-Be safe,” Herman stammers, trying to calm down his over-excited heart. This really is some serious emotional whiplash from just an hour ago, but Herman is officially past caring. He’s not going to let anything ruin this high for him, even his own dad.
A wild grin worms its way onto Herman’s face as he leaves the locker room, listening to Robert throw a ”Night” out as Herman pushes though the door. Later tonight, Herman will probably go back to letting his stomach tie itself into knots about his father coming back into his life far too soon. One amazing evening can’t undo that kind of terror, but it can soften the blow. He can cling to it until he can’t escape his darker feelings any longer.
The task of walking home doesn’t seem so daunting anymore.