Arion watched Dean go with a calm that fooled most people.
Dean's footsteps vanished into the bathroom, and the door clicked shut with a soft finality that felt louder than it should have. The room, which had been warm and close and scented with calm for hours, immediately changed shape around Arion's awareness. The air thinned. The heat went elsewhere. Even Boreas shifted in place at the foot of the bed, letting out a low, dissatisfied huff, as if the configuration had been altered against his better judgment.
Arion lay on his back and stared at the ceiling for a moment like a man trying to remember why he ever tolerated distance.
His chest felt… wrong. He wasn't in pain anymore.
