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The bathroom is warm with steam, the mirror already fogged over into a soft blur that makes the space feel smaller. The water runs in a steady rhythm, drumming against skin and tiles. Amelia stands under the spray, drops slipping down her shoulders, her hair already heavy and darkened.
Just inches away from her, Toni watches her with that quiet, steady presence that has become familiar in a way that still surprises Amelia.
There's a small smile lingering between them, filled with something easy and unspoken.
As the heat seeps into muscles she didn't realize were this tight, Amelia lets her shoulders drop with a deep exhale. Toni brushes a finger along her arm, featherlightly, making Amelia shiver with goosebumps.
"Hey," she murmurs, her voice low and softened by the water, "turn around for me?"
Amelia doesn't hesitate, her eyes already slipping shut in anticipation. But instead of Toni's hands on her hips, or lips near her ear, she hears the faint click of a bottle opening. A second later, warm water shifts as Toni angles the spray, before her skilled fingers massage shampoo into Amelia's hair.
Amelia hums under her breath. "You're spoiling me."
"You deserve it," Toni replies lightly, that warm smile still in her voice, "so you'd better get used to it."
Leaning back into Toni's touch, Amelia lets herself sink into the moment. Toni's fingers move slowly, methodically, massaging through Amelia's hair, careful but firm. It's grounding. Intimate on a whole new level.
But then she pauses.
It's subtle, but Amelia feels it immediately. The shift in her hands, the wavering.
"What?" she asks, not opening her eyes yet.
"You—" Toni's fingertip traces along her scalp again, even slower this time, following some line. "You've got a huge scar here," she gasps. "Were you in an accident, or something?"
Amelia glances back over her shoulder. Their eyes meet through the thin veil of steam and rain. She shakes her head.
"No," she answers, "no accident."
Toni's brows knit slightly, waiting.
"I had a benign meningioma," Amelia goes on. A humorless chuckle falls from her lips. "I know, a neurosurgeon with a brain tumor. How ironic."
Toni doesn't laugh along. There's a flicker of worry across her face. "Wow," she says quietly. "Did they... did they get it out?"
"They did." Amelia nods once. "It was complicated, tricky. But they got it all."
Toni exhales. Her hand settles at the back of Amelia's neck again, her thumb brushing there in a quiet, reassuring gesture - something she might need more than Amelia right now.
"Were you scared?"
Amelia lets out a small breath, turning her face forward again as the water rinses through her hair. "Yes," she admits. "Especially since I had no control. I couldn't fix myself, I had to trust others."
A pause stretches, filled only by the sound of water.
Then, almost to herself, she adds, "All I could do was decide to get through it." She swallows, her gaze fixed somewhere ahead, unfocused. "Decide not to die again."
This time the silence lands differently. Heavier. Toni's hand stills completely.
"...again?" she asks, more carefully now.
Amelia shoulders tense. There it is. That moment. The one she isn't ready for yet, the one she hoped to put off for just a little while longer. They've shared a lot already, in the past weeks, but this... this could change everything.
Her brain shoots in overdrive. She can still avoid it, if she's quick, if she's witty enough. She could deflect, make a joke, pivot.
But for some reason, she doesn't.
She doesn't turn back this time. Instead, as she finally speaks up, about to introduce Toni to that other part of her life, she watches the water disappear down the drain.
"I told you I had addiction issues," she starts hesitantly, "Alcohol, yeah. But... that's not all."
Toni doesn't interrupt. She just listens.
"I did drugs too," Amelia continues, her voice even lower than before. "Pills, mostly. When I was just a teen. And there was a point where it got... bad. Really bad."
The water runs between them, filling the gaps where words don't come.
"One day, I overdosed. To the point where I was actually... gone."
Toni's breath catches, almost inaudible. With no other choice, Amelia goes on.
"My brother found me. He—" She shakes her head. "He got me back."
There's no drama in how she says it. Just truth, laid out plainly.
Toni's hands resume their movement, gentler now, rinsing the last of the shampoo from Amelia's hair. Not rushing her, not pushing - just staying present. Amelia takes that as permission to keep going.
"The abuse, it wasn't..." she starts, then stops, searching. "It wasn't about being rebellious. Or reckless. I know that's how it sounds."
"It doesn't," Toni says softly, immediately.
Amelia casts a fleeting glance at her, only to quickly look away again. "It does to most."
Behind her, Toni's presence stays steady.
"What was it about?"
"Back then? My dad. His loss. Trying to get through something that felt... darker than anything else." She shifts her weight. Water runs over her face, and she blinks it away. Maybe it's not just water. "Something—" She clears her throat. "Something impossible to get through in any other way."
Toni's hand comes to rest at the back of her neck again. "But you did," she says softly. It's not a question.
"Yes." Amelia briefly presses her lips together. "Before med school. Before we met. That's why I... avoided most social events. Focused on studying so much. But it only lasted that long." Her voice tightens. "I relapsed in those years after. Things got... pretty ugly again."
A silence falls between them, but it isn't empty. Toni's hands find Amelia's shoulders and she gently spins her toward her. The motion is unhurried, giving Amelia every chance to pull away if she wants to.
There's another pause. Then Toni asks: "How are you now?"
That's when Amelia finally glances up at her, water dripping from her lashes. "I'm okay," she answers truthfully. "I'm clean. I've been sober for years."
There's a hint of pride there. Quiet, but real, and well deserved. Amelia knows that. Yet just as quickly, something else creeps in.
Uncertainty.
It flickers across her expression before she can stop it, settling somewhere deeper, heavier.
Because this is Toni.
Smart, composed Toni - who moves through the world with intention. Who thinks things through. Who doesn't lose control, doesn't make reckless choices just to survive the next hour. Toni, who would have known better. Who would have chosen wiser.
Who would never have ended up where Amelia did.
Amelia's gaze lowers again, her fingers fidgeting. She feels exposed, and it has nothing to do with being naked.
She can feel it now, the space where Toni could push her away. Or step back.
Where she could reassess her. Could decide that this is too much.
That Amelia is too much.
Her jaw clenches. "I mean..." she starts, then falters, her voice catching. "You probably think..."
She doesn't finish. Not at first.
Her eyes flick up again, searching Toni's face for something—anything—that might confirm or undo the fear already forming in her chest.
"...that it says something," she manages quietly. "About me."
Her throat feels tight, but as so very often she can't stop herself.
"That I'm weak. That I make bad decisions," she adds, the words coming a little quicker now, like she's spiraling beyond her control. "That—"
She stops again, her breath uneven, then lets out a small huff.
"That I might not be the safest person to have around you."
The last part is softer. More honest than she meant it to be. And then, almost as an afterthought—but somehow the part that scares her even more—her voice dips even lower.
"Or around Zach."
The words hang there, fragile and sharp at the same time.
Amelia's gaze drops again almost immediately after saying it, like she can't bear to watch the reaction she's been bracing for since the moment this conversation started.
The water shuts off, and for a second the silence feels too loud. Then Toni steps backward, out of the shower. And for half a heartbeat, Amelia thinks: there it is. Distance. Exactly what she expected.
Except Toni turns around, a towel already in her hands, reaching for her.
"Come here," she says softly.
Amelia takes a wavering step, following her. The air is cooler here, the steam curling thinner around them as Toni drapes the large towel over her shoulders. Careful, deliberate. Not like she's vulnerable, as she's been treated so often, but like she's valuable.
Toni's hands linger at the edges of the towel, not pulling away just yet. She looks at Amelia fully now, locking their eyes, before swiftly wrapping a towel around her own body.
"I think," she says, "that you went through a lot." Her voice is firm in a calm, tender way. "Much more than most people do. I think I knew that before you ever told me."
Amelia's throat tightens.
"And I'm so sorry," Toni softly adds, "for everything that got you there. For everything that made it even harder."
Amelia blinks. Something in her chest loosens in a way that feels unfamiliar, but strangely right.
Toni brushes a damp strand of hair back from Amelia's face.
"You've got more scars than the ones showing," she continues. "But they're nothing but proof to me that you survived. That you are much stronger than anything that tried to hurt you."
There's no pity in her voice. No condescension. Just respect.
"You don't—" Amelia starts, but Toni shakes her head.
"I don't think you're weak," Toni says, cutting gently across the fear before it can fully form. "Not at all. And I don't think you're a risk."
For a moment, Amelia just stands there, wrapped in her towel, in the quiet aftermath of everything just said. Toni sounds sincere, she probably means every word of it. And still, something in Amelia resists settling, a tension that lingers beneath the surface no matter how much she wants to let it go.
Then Toni steps closer.
Not abruptly. Not overwhelming.
Just enough.
Amelia leans into her without thinking, forehead resting briefly against Toni's shoulder. Toni's arms come around her in return, holding her there. Not tightly, not like she might break, but like she belongs there.
Amelia exhales, slow and deep, letting herself settle into it.
It's not dramatic. There are no tears, no big declarations.
Just this.
But to Amelia, this is everything.
... ...