They walked back to their room side by side, their footsteps falling into an uneasy rhythm.
Raphael did not speak. Julian did not try to make him. The silence between them was not hostile, but dense, heavy with everything neither of them dared to say aloud.
When they reached the room, they undressed with the same wordless coordination, movements restrained and careful, like men afraid of breaking something already cracked.
They lay down together, bodies turning toward each other by instinct rather than intention. Julian's fingers curled into the fabric at Raphael's back. Raphael's arm came around him, firm, protective, unyielding. They slept like that clutching each other to keep themselves, anchored yet even in sleep the silence remained. It was not peace.
Morning came cold and pale.
Raphael woke before the sun fully claimed the sky.
