The walk back to their apartment was quiet. Neither of them spoke, and neither of them really needed to. The silence was heavy with everything that had been said—and everything that hadn’t. Alex was still quiet, the weight of his own emotions hanging over him like a storm cloud, but for the first time that night, he felt a little less alone. Kai was beside him, close enough that their shoulders brushed every now and then, and that small contact was enough to steady him, to remind him that things weren’t as broken as they seemed.

When they got back to their building, neither of them made a move to talk again. Kai opened the door to their shared apartment, holding it open for Alex to step inside first. The air inside was cool and still, untouched by the storm that had raged outside. They both moved slowly, like they were stepping back into a space that was both familiar and new.

Kai glanced at Alex briefly as they passed each other on their way to the living room, but neither of them said a word. Alex sank into the couch, still not quite sober but not entirely drunk either, his head heavy with the aftertaste of alcohol and the weight of everything they’d been through. Kai stood by the door for a moment longer, his hands in his pockets, his eyes on the floor as though he were deciding something.

Alex could feel Kai watching him, but he didn’t look up. Instead, he stared at the wall ahead, his mind swirling with half-formed thoughts. He was exhausted, physically and mentally. The night had been too much—too many emotions, too many words unsaid. And for once, he didn’t feel the need to talk, didn’t feel the pressure to explain anything. He just needed to be.

Kai finally moved toward him, but instead of sitting across from him or saying anything more, he simply dropped down beside him on the couch. There was no expectation, no pressure. He didn’t ask if Alex was okay. He didn’t try to fill the silence with more words. He just sat beside him, his presence solid and warm, like a quiet reassurance.

For a moment, neither of them moved. Neither of them spoke. The only sounds were the hum of the refrigerator in the corner and the soft rustle of their breaths. It was almost comforting, the stillness between them, as if they didn’t need to fill every space with words, didn’t need to force anything. They were just there.

Alex didn’t know how long they sat like that, but eventually, he felt Kai’s arm shift slightly, just enough for their shoulders to touch. Kai’s warmth seeped into him, and the simple gesture made the knot in Alex’s chest loosen just a little. He exhaled slowly, letting his head tilt slightly toward Kai’s, as though seeking some kind of silent connection without needing to verbalize it.

Kai’s fingers brushed against Alex’s hand, not a conscious move, but one that seemed almost instinctive. Alex’s hand shifted slightly, letting their fingers brush more intentionally this time. It was a simple touch, a small thing, but in that moment, it felt like a lifeline, like a wordless agreement that they were still there for each other.

They stayed like that, not speaking, but not pulling away either. The couch was wide enough for them to each have their space, but neither of them seemed to want it. Alex could feel Kai’s warmth beside him, could hear the steady rhythm of his breathing, and for once, the noise in his head quieted. There was just this—just the two of them, side by side.

Slowly, as if they’d both reached the same quiet understanding, they shifted, moving closer to each other without saying a word. Kai was the first to settle, his arm sliding across the back of the couch until it rested over Alex’s shoulders. Alex didn’t hesitate. He leaned into the touch, his head resting against Kai’s chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath, the solidness of him.

The moment was simple—nothing extraordinary—but it felt like everything. In the quiet space between them, there was a kind of peace that neither of them had expected. They didn’t need to fix anything. They didn’t need to solve the unsaid things or make promises. They just needed this—this silence, this closeness.

Alex closed his eyes, the warmth of Kai’s body against his soothing the lingering tension in his limbs. He felt safe in this quiet cocoon, like nothing needed to be forced, like everything could just *be* for a little while.

Kai’s hand gently rubbed his back, slow and comforting, like a soft reassurance. It wasn’t sexual, wasn’t an attempt to push for anything more. It was simply a gesture of care, of being there for him in the way that mattered most—without expectation, without pressure.

Alex’s body relaxed into Kai’s, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he let go of the weight he’d been carrying. His eyes fluttered closed, and the rhythm of Kai’s breathing lulled him into something like a trance. He didn’t know if he’d fall asleep or if the quiet would simply stretch on until morning, but it didn’t matter. 

For once, the world outside seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them, wrapped up in this simple, unspoken understanding.

---

The night passed slowly, and when Alex finally woke, it was to the soft light of dawn creeping through the windows. His head was still heavy, but not from the alcohol this time. It was from the feeling of being grounded—of not being alone. He shifted slightly, his body aching from the position, but Kai hadn’t moved. He was still there, still holding him close, still with him in that unspoken way that felt more real than any conversation could.

For a long time, they simply stayed like that, not needing to say anything. In the quiet morning light, the weight of everything seemed less pressing. There were still questions, still things to be figured out, but for now, none of that mattered. All that mattered was that they were together, in this moment, in this silence. And maybe that was enough for today.