Snake agreed to Fallon finding someone else to investigate despite every one of his nerve endings screaming otherwise.

“Are you alright?” The king asked, tilting his head curiously. “I know you don't like to talk much about how you're feeling, which is fine, but you are not acting like yourself.” He paused, “I'm worried.”

“I'm fine. Just hungry.” Snake waved a dismissive hand, following Fallon into the bath. He sank into the warm water and shuddered. He couldn't remember the last time he'd bathed in water so warm, it felt like a liquid blanket. 

“I could ask the kitchen if they have any spare bread.”

“No. We will eat tomorrow, anyway. I'll live.”

Fallon didn't answer, Snake could feel his eyes on him as he ran soap through his long, white locks. Snake could practically see his knitted brows and bottom lip bitten in concern. He didn't dare acknowledge that look, it always made his stomach feel funny.

“Is that all it is? Hunger? I find it very odd that you destroyed your study over such a thing. You are usually so particular about it.”

“Yes, Fallon.” Snake regretted the way that came out and cleared his throat, his stomach dropping. If Fallon found out what he'd done, he would leave. Snake would be alone again. Fallon would hate him. He would see that same red eyed demon the rest of the world saw. Fallon knew Snake better than anyone. They'd been living together, sleeping in the same bed even, for five years. It was difficult not to learn someone after that long in such close proximity. If Snake let his guard down, Fallon would know. He would realize, eventually, who the murderer was.

“Well, tell me when you're ready, then. I’m here for you.” 

For now. Snake thought bitterly, biting the inside of his cheek. He watched with shaking eyes as Fallon stood up to get out of the bath, following suit. 

Snake pulled on his black robe, watching Fallon pull on his own green one. His rust-colored hair was so beautiful in the soft light of the evening. It highlighted the King's square jaw where stubble grew and freckles scattered across his cheeks and nose like stardust. Was he ever handsome, thought Snake, looking away when Fallon met his gaze, his cheeks suddenly warmer.

Fallon tilted his head with a soft smile, taking one of Snake's hands in his own, pressing a featherlight kiss to his knuckles, Snake watched with wide eyes, guilt racking up within him, closing his throat. He swallowed, hard, blinking the sting away from his eyes.

Fallon was so perfect. It was unfair, truly, and cruelly unfair. Snake was just that—a snake. A demon. And now, a murderer. He pulled his hand away quickly once it started trembling. 

“Let's go to bed.” His voice came out strained and nearly shrill.

“Excited already?” Fallon hummed with a smirk. Snake didn't answer.

Fallon watched him for a moment, the smirk slowly fading when Snake offered no response.

He followed Snake toward the bedroom, closing the door behind them. The room was dim except for the small lantern burning beside the bed, its flame wavering whenever the wind slipped through the lattice. Snake moved toward his usual side of the bed, but Fallon paused.

“Wait.”

Fallon crossed the room and reached toward him, gently catching the edge of his robe where it had twisted around his shoulder.

“You've been shivering.”

“I have not.”

“You have.”

“I’m cold.”

“That is generally what shivering means.”

Snake rolled his eyes, but Fallon only smiled. He adjusted the robe around Snake's shoulders before stepping away.

“There.” Snake stared at him, Fallon stared back. Neither of them spoke for a moment, the awkward silence lingering. Well, it felt awkward to Snake, anyhow. He couldn't really tell what Fallon was thinking.

It was such a small thing. Fallon had done it hundreds of times before. Straightening Snake's collar. Moving his hair out of the way. Pulling blankets over him when he fell asleep at his desk.

Yet tonight, everything felt different. Snake's stomach twisted. He didn't know what Snake had done beneath that bridge. If he knew, he wouldn't touch him. He wouldn't look at him like this.

Snake climbed into bed quickly, turning toward the wall. Fallon followed a moment later, the mattress dipped beneath his weight.

Snake could hear the faint rustle of sheets as Fallon settled beside him. He could hear his breathing, steady and warm, so close that it made Snake's throat ache.

“Snake?”

“Hm?”

“You really are acting strangely.”

Snake closed his eyes.

“I told you. I'm hungry.”

“You've been hungry before.”

Snake's fingers curled beneath the blanket. Fallon shifted closer.

“You destroyed your study.”

“I can clean it.”

“You tore apart weeks of research.”

“I can rewrite it.”

“You've barely spoken to me.”

“I am speaking now.” Fallon was quiet. Then, very softly, “You pulled your hand away from me.”

Snake's heart stopped. His eyes opened. Right, he did do that.

“Your hand was shaking,” Fallon continued. “You looked like I had hurt you.” Snake swallowed. “You didn't.”

“I know.” Fallon's voice was gentle. Snake stared into the darkness, there were so many things he could say. He could tell Fallon the truth—he could tell him that he was a murderer.

That four people had died by his hands.

That he had forgotten doing it until he returned to the bridge.

That for one horrifying moment, the shaman's voice had returned to him.

Demonic.

The word seemed to crawl beneath his skin.

Instead, Snake whispered, “I'm tired.” Fallon didn't answer immediately, then the mattress shifted again.

A warm arm settled carefully around Snake's waist. Fallon didn't pull him closer. He simply left his arm there, Snake found the weight of it comforting despite himself.

“I know.”

Snake's eyes burned.

“You don't have to say anything.”

The words hurt more than they should have; Fallon was making it so easy. He was giving Snake every opportunity to remain silent. And Snake hated him for it.

No. That wasn't true.

He loved him for it. That was worse.

Snake turned his head slightly.

Fallon's face was only partially illuminated by the lantern. His eyes were already half closed, exhaustion softening every hard line of his face.

“You should sleep,” Fallon murmured.

“So should you.”

Fallon's thumb moved lazily against his side.

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

The room fell silent again. Snake tried to sleep, but he couldn't. He felt the need to toss and turn and fling Fallon's arm around his waist out the window, every time he closed his eyes, he saw four bodies.

Not soldiers alone. A commoner, too.

Someone who had nothing to do with any of this. His stomach rolled as he shifted beneath the blankets.

Fallon's arm tightened instinctively.

“Stop moving.”

“I can't sleep.”

Snake frowned, huffing quietly.

Fallon smiled against the pillow. “There. That's better.”

“What is?”

“You sound like yourself.”

Snake went still, Fallon's eyes remained closed.

“Goodnight, dear.”

Silence. 

Snake stared at him.

Fallon didn't move. Didn't open his eyes. Apparently, he hadn't even realized what he'd said. Snake's lips parted slightly.

Dear.

The word echoed through his mind.

Not Snake.

Not “Trouble”.

Dear.

His chest tightened.

He looked away quickly, staring at the wall while heat crept up his neck. Beside him, Fallon slowly opened one eye, their gazes met. Neither spoke, but the silence wasn't as uncomfortable as before.

Fallon's brow lifted.

Snake's eyes widened.

For several seconds, they simply stared at one another. Then Fallon blinked.Snake blinked.

“...What?” Fallon asked.

“Nothing.”

“Good.”

“Good.”