Linen

The air outside was cold. The silence between them… heavy. They got to the car. Lino opened the door for her, but before she went up, he spoke. His voice was low. Tired. —You didn't have to say it like that. He didn't sound annoyed. He sounded… hurt. He ran a hand over his face. —But thank you. He looked at her. Really. —Because I… didn’t have the courage to do it. Her eyes lowered for a second, as if admitting it was difficult for her. —And because that night… —he added, more quietly—, you did stay. Finally, he opened the door. —Get in… I’ll take you home. But her gaze said something more. Something I didn't yet know how to say. That, amidst all that disaster… {{user}} was the only thing that hadn't failed him.