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Sasha curls up in her bed all alone, blanket to her chin. Hollow Point is having one of its colder nights but she finds she doesn’t mind the slight chill and goosebumps that sprout over her skin. She’s in her underwear and a thin tank, messing with her blanket as she stares at the ceiling with a weird feeling in her stomach.
She’s used to sleeping alone. She’s done it ever since she’d been old enough to fit in a mattress that didn’t leave her feeling scared of monsters under her bed.
Well, they’d be in her bed, come a few years.
It’s not a lonely thing now, it’s a relief if anything.
But even if she was alone, Sasha wasn’t lonely. She had Fiona. She was all Sasha needed, even with Felix gone.
It didn’t matter that someone laid in Felix’s old bed just down the hall. It didn’t matter that she couldn’t stop thinking about his betrayal, the yearning, the sense of heavy loss that followed her all these months.
Rhys. Not Felix, no, she hadn’t given herself a chance to unpack that just yet.
Instead, Sasha stares up at her cracked ceiling and pretends if she stares long enough the cracks won’t be so obvious.
She’d had plans, years ago now, to fill the cracks with paint and fix the ceiling for once and for all.
She hadn’t thought about the real work that actually went into fixing a ceiling. It would still leak, the sound of Hollow Point would still bleed through, and Sasha would stare at the returning cracks every night.
A temporary, pretty fix that would last a few nights before cracking.
A pretty good metaphor of who Sasha was. Or destined to always be.
The woman clears her throat, shifting under her thin blanket and looking away from the cracks. She focuses on the window hidden behind her broken blinds and the little light that leaks through the glass is oddly comforting.
It’s nothing permanent but it would do for now. Sasha wasn’t particularly in the mood to fall down the never ending path that would end up sending her somewhere worse than where she was now.
Besides, Sasha was happy. Sasha was alive and safe and her healing broken arm was almost back to normal. She still got to work with Janey for extra money, Fiona got her vault-hunting fix, and it’s not unbearably hot for once.
And Rhys.
Rhys was back. Rhys was alive. Rhys was down the hall.
Rhys lived with her now.
That’s all there was to it. Rather than let the man live out his DIY company days in an empty, cold dome with nothing but fruits, Sasha and Fiona had let him move in.
Rhys was alive. Rhys was down the hall.
Sasha hadn’t expected it to be… not necessarily awkward. Rhys was still the same old dork who made bad jokes and gave her grins that made her stomach feel as if it were on the verge of falling apart.
His hand had landed on her lower back in the kitchen yesterday, a nonchalant touch to help himself scoot past her in the tight space that was most definitely forgotten by him.
Yet Sasha couldn’t stop thinking about it.
No, instead, she found her mind drifting to the other kinds of touches and things she could share with Rhys.
Things she wanted to do.
Sasha swallows down the weird feeling in her chest and forces herself to stop thinking about him.
Well, she tries to. But then there’s a knock at the door and Sasha’s bolting upright.
It’s faint, barely even audible. But Sasha knows a reluctant, second-guessing knock. She’s heard enough of them from her own knuckles.
Within a beat, Sasha is standing on the other side of the door. She’s nervous, she knows exactly who it is without ever having to see.
Sasha opens the door. She doesn’t think she could stand to not.
It’s only a crack open, enough for Sasha to peak her head through. Of course, it’s immediately casted in a soft golden light.
Rhys’ gaze.
He stands tall, eyes wide and seemingly as shocked as Sasha is. His jaw is hanging ever so slightly and his frame looks surprisingly small in the borrowed Atlas hoodie that fits loosely over his frame.
The metal arm is hidden for once. It makes Sasha’s stomach feel funny to see him so small.
Rhys stood out. Rhys wanted to stand out.
Something wasn’t right.
“H-Hey?” He croaks out.
Sasha tilts her head. “Hi?” She replies, just as confused, “Is the sink acting funny again?”
It’s a longer approach but Sasha knows she’ll get exactly what she’s looking for soon enough.
She’s just not brave enough yet.
“Wh- What? The sink- Oh!” He shakes his head. His hair is slightly wavier than usual and Sasha notes just how much there is of it when it’s not gelled back. “No, the sink is um, fine, it’s fine.”
Sasha perks up a brow. She finally notices the paler shade to his skin.
Before Sasha even gets the chance to say a word, Rhys is already shuffling. His hands are at his sides, curling into fists.
“C-Can I um, can I sit… with you?”
Sasha stares but Rhys doesn’t look up at her. Instead, his gaze is locked on the floor.
She nods before realizing he can’t quite see her face. So she settles on opening the door a bit wider, Rhys’ eyes raising to look at her immediately.
“Oh, shit,” Sasha stammers, eyes big. “I-I need to get dressed.”
The shade of pink on her face is mirrored on Rhys', his eyes just as wide. He looks to his side but Sasha’s already scrambling into her room, sliding into a pair of looser shorts.
By the time she stumbles back to the door, opening it wide, Rhys looks about ready to collapse from just how flushed he is.
Sasha only opens the door open with her good palm, nodding her head. She steps back, Rhys stepping in and staring at her room.
It’s not the first time he’s been inside her room but he’s never been invited in so late. Sasha watches as his gaze flickers over the small space for a beat.
“I’m sure it’s not as fancy as you’re used to,” She starts, clearing her throat as she takes a seat on the edge of her mattress.
Rhys doesn’t respond for a moment. “I wasn’t expecting anything like that,” He settles on, fiddling with his metallic fingers.
Sasha kicks herself. She sits down beside him, keeping a good few inches of space between them both.
“How’s the arm?” He asks.
“Oh, i-it’s better,” Sasha answers looking up at him. Being this close was intimidating to say the least, it’s hard to not trace his features with her eyes, following the new scars on his temple port down to the curve of his lips. “Much better. I’m getting the cast off in three days.”
“Right,” Rhys mumbles, nodding his head once. He raises his flesh palm up to his hair and for a second, Sasha feels incredibly out of depth.
“So,” She starts slowly, “It’s kinda late, huh?”
Rhys meets her gaze, brows raised immediately. “Do you want me t-to get back to my room?” He asks, already shifting.
Sasha’s palm moves quicker than her mind, warm hand wrapping around Rhys’ flesh palm and keeping him seated beside her.
“No- No, you don’t have to,” She assures quickly, shaking her head for good measure. “I just… was talking.”
He grimaces. Sasha notes the slight trembling of his hand.
“Hollow Point is quiet,” He states after a beat, clearing his throat. “I’m not used to um, I don’t really like when it’s quiet.”
“Oh.”
Sasha’s never been good at the talking part- that was always Fiona’s expertise. Even if she stumbled, the woman always knew what to say and when.
“Y-Y’know, the dome was really quiet, like, so quiet,” Rhys goes on in a stammer, fingers twisting his metal knuckle as if it could move. “God, you could hear your own heart beating sometimes.”
“Yeah?” Sasha mumbles.
Rhys only nods.
It’s awkward again. Sasha wants to kick herself.
“Why’re you still awake?” Rhys asks- Of course he does, the silence was too much.
Sasha shrugs her shoulders, looking back up into his eyes. “Just up thinking,” She murmurs. She gracefully leaves out the part about who she was thinking about.
Rhys nods and for a beat, he looks tired. Exhausted even. There’s a sheen of sweat over his forehead that isn’t exactly something Sasha would’ve expected on such a cold night.
His eyes don’t stay in one place for too long. Sasha’s already shifting closer.
Her palm lands on his knee, Rhys jolting entirely, his face pulling into a shocked look as he meets her gaze.
She gives him a small smile. “Do you like my room?” She asks.
Distractions were good, they had to be. Sasha couldn’t count the number of times she’s focused on various things in a room to escape her mind.
“I-I do!” Rhys replies immediately, a lopsided grin on his lips. “The posters are… interesting. Are they all musicians and bands?”
Sasha nods. “Most were birthday gifts,” She starts, “All from Fiona over the years. We took them out of the caravan because Felix said they’d be too noticeable.”
His frown flickers in and out of existence quick. Sasha still notices.
“I think they look nice in here,” He murmurs.
Sasha smiles, starting to speak, only to just barely stop herself from jolting when Rhys’ hand lands over hers. His skin is cool, the weight of his palm heavy and comforting.
She meets his gaze. The serious look in his eyes makes her almost flinch.
Slowly, his metallic fingers skitter over the cast on her forearm, just barely brushing against the bandaging.
“I’m glad you’re okay, y’know,” He murmurs, eyes tracing his own movement.
Sasha blinks. “It’s just a broken arm.”
Rhys meets her gaze once more. “It almost wasn’t.”
The tone of his voice makes Sasha feel small- but not the kind of small that Felix used to make her feel. It’s more… comforted. A reminder that someone other than Fiona had been worried and cared so much.
She swallows the pressure in her throat.
“You look tired,” Rhys murmurs, fingers lifting off her cast. “I can head back to my bed now.”
Sasha shakes her head, her lips moving faster than she can stop them. “Y-You can sleep in here!”
The silence is loud. Sasha wishes she could drown in it.
“W-With you?” Rhys squeaks out.
At the very least, Sasha doesn’t have to be the only one who is seemingly incredibly out of depth.
She nods. “I can make room.” Her eyes flicker back to the mattress and then onto Rhys, the man’s ears growing a darker shade of red.
It’s adorable. Sasha makes sure to not say that out loud.
“Here, c’mon,” She starts, crawling back towards the head of the bed. She pushes the blanket back, fluffing the two pillows with the best of her ability before turning back to him.
He’s standing now, fingers wringing around one another. His eyes flicker between her and the mattress.
“Well?” Sasha asks, giving him a smile. “Don’t be scared, I don’t kick.”
His own lips pull into a lopsided smile. “I sleep talk sometimes.”
The laugh that leaves Sasha’s lips is a surprise to even herself. “What?” She cries out, “A-Are you serious?!”
Rhys’ face quickly grows into a bright shade of red as he stammers. “I-I mean- I-It’s just mumbles!” He assures quickly, hands out, “Not like, not like whole conversations! But I do drool too…”
Sasha giggles. “Fiona told me.”
He looks mortified. “You’re kidding!”
“Nope,” Sasha smiles, “It’s fine. I’ll just make you wash my pillow.” She extends a palm out to him and slowly, Rhys gives in. His cool, much bigger palm wraps around her own, guiding him down and under the covers beside her.
There’s still a good decent few inches between them, Rhys lying on his back as Sasha curls up on her side. She studies his face from this angle for as long as she can, until Rhys turns his head to face her.
“I like your room.”
She smiles shyly. “Really?”
“Mhmm,” He hums, eyes flickering over her features as his fingers fold over his stomach. “It’s… It’s cozy.”
“Well,” Sasha starts, daring to scoot just a bit closer, “It’s a good thing I like having you in here.”
It’s a risky thought but Sasha follows through anyway. Her cheek promptly plops down on his shoulder, her casted arm resting over his waist.
He stares at her but Sasha’s not brave enough to meet his gaze. Instead, she shuts her eyes.
The silence returns, albeit this time it’s drowned out by the fast beating of Rhys’ heart against her frame. It lasts only a second before Rhys’ shift.
“Here, hang on,” He mumbles, jostling Sasha as he leans up, his arm once nestled between them now wrapping around Sasha’s shoulders and bringing her closer. Her eyes stay wide open then.
It’s a nonchalant move on Rhys’ part but Sasha can’t ever remember finding this much solace in one another’s hold.
“There,” He murmurs, squeezing her close as he looks down at her. “Is this okay?”
Sasha’s throat is tight as she nods her head nearly fast enough to see stars. She can’t remember the last time someone has asked if anything like this was okay. She doesn’t think it’s ever happened before.
“Good,” Rhys mumbles, staring down at her features for a beat.
He’s close enough to kiss. Close enough for Sasha to spill out the feeling in her chest and to confess how okay this was.
But she’s scared. This feeling, whatever it was, was terrifying.
She’s saved from having to make a decision then and there as Rhys turns his head back towards the ceiling, staring up at the cracks that Sasha now wishes she could’ve hidden before letting him in.
He doesn’t seem to mind, if anything, Rhys relaxes further into the bed with a happy hum.
“This is nice,” He breathes.
Sasha picks up on the way his heart no longer races. She wishes to have this effect on him for as long as she can. Her fingers curl over his side, just barely making out his boney hip from over the fabric of his hoodie.
She makes no mention of him being the first person to sleep in her bed, to hold her like this, to make her feel so… relieved.
Instead, she closes her eyes.
“Yeah,” Sasha agrees, “It is.”
Sleep comes easily to Sasha and it’s not because of the busy day she’s had.