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Mok doesn’t realize he’s shaking until he feels gentle hands wrap around his.
‘Hey,’ Rome whispers, gliding his thumb across Mok’s wrist as he carefully pulls the gun from his hands. His touch is steady, grounding, like he’s done this a hundred times before.
‘I’m fine,’ Mok replies automatically, the words hollow even to his own ears.
Rome doesn’t argue. He simply pulls Mok closer into his embrace, one hand cradling the back of his head, pressing him gently against his chest.
Gently, he whispers, ‘You don’t have to be.’
The words settle somewhere deep, somewhere Mok has been trying not to look. For once, he doesn’t argue. He lets the tension drain from his shoulders, lets himself lean.
He rests his head over Rome’s heart.
Ba-dum. Ba-dum.
Steady. Certain. There.
Mok focuses on the sound, on the warmth wrapped around him, on the quiet space Rome creates just by being here. The shaking doesn’t stop all at once, but it eases, little by little, until it’s something he can breathe through.
Maybe Mok doesn’t have to always be strong. Maybe he can simply exist. Rome will make sure of it.
Closing his eyes, Mok finally lets go, drifting into sleep, knowing his Rome will be there when he wakes.