"Relieved," Chris echoed, suspicious.
"That you're finally living in your own skin," Dax said.
Chris opened his mouth, then closed it again. The retort that should've come never did; his throat had gone dry. The warmth in the air pulsed again, subtle and restrained, but it was there, pressing softly against the edge of his senses like an invitation he didn't know how to refuse.
He turned away before his thoughts could betray him. "You should go before I melt into the carpet."
"I'll wait in the corridor," Dax said, his voice still quiet, still too steady for how much control it carried. "Take your time."
When he left, the air lightened, though not entirely. Chris exhaled shakily, fingers curling against the sheets.
'You're finally living in your own skin.'
The words shouldn't have mattered, but they did. They lodged under his ribs, uncomfortably close to hope.
'I'm so easy. Falling in love in less than a week. Good job Malek.'
