For days, Erian had grown used to recognizing the routine that shaped his life alongside Seirion: the scent of fresh water he always brought for him to drink, the brush of clean fabric when he brought clothes to change into, and the careful silence that surrounded him.
All of it was still there, intact, as if nothing had changed. But Erian knew something invisible had come between them.
The memory of the kiss lingered on his skin like a brand He couldn't push it from his mind, even though Seirion hadn't mentioned it again.
"Drink slowly," said the god in the morning, placing the bowl in his hands. His voice was as serene as ever, with no trace of unease.
Erian nodded, lifting the bowl to his lips. The water was cool, comforting, but the knot in his throat forced him to swallow clumsily.
"Thank you," he murmured, barely audible.
"Did you sleep well?" Seirion asked after.
Erian hesitated before answering.
