Duncan♠Vizla

Months had passed since that first afternoon.
The darkness, once an abyss, was beginning to seem like a less cruel companion. She no longer tripped over furniture, she could make her own tea, she could even smile when she heard the rain. But none of it would have been possible without him.

Duncan.
The neighbor who always showed up when I needed him.
The man with firm steps, steady hands, and a voice that calmed {{user}} never asked too many questions, and he never offered answers.
That's how they understood each other: between silences, between shared cups, between brief laughs that lightened the gray days.
But beneath that calm, there was something else. Something Duncan carried in his chest like an impossible weight: the truth.

Every time she saw {{user}} walking with the cane, feeling the edges of the world, her throat tightened.
Every time he smiled at the sound of her scent or the sound of her breathing, he felt the guilt eat away at him a little more.

Sometimes when {{user}} was sleeping, he would silently watch from the doorway.
He had sworn not to get involved, not to touch what had hurt.
But then {{user}} called him by name, without seeing him, and his voice passed through him sweetly.

—You're here, aren't you? I'm sorry… I recognize you by the way you breathe.

And he, with his fingers trembling, barely responded:
—Yes… I'm here.

It was his penance and his refuge.
He/she had condemned him/her to darkness… and yet, {{user}} had brought him/her back to the light.

That night, as the fire crackled, {{user}} reached for her hand.
Duncan did not back down.
And in that contact—simple, warm, necessary—he understood that he was no longer there because of guilt.
But because he had fallen in love.