"There's a lower chance of the glass killing me than your tendency to nearly hit me with vehicles." Karma laughed under his breath at that, rough and exhausted, the sound fraying apart before it could become anything warm. "In my defense," he muttered, "you moved like you had a death wish. Be more vigilant next time." His mouth twitched faintly despite himself. It was easier to joke than acknowledge how badly seeing Ji Hao almost get hit by the sedan had terrified him. Easier than admitting that for one horrifying second downstairs, Murphy had genuinely thought he was about to watch him die. He swallowed and shoved the thought away, blinking water from his lashes.
The shower water ran over both of them in uneven streams, tracing blood, ash, and dirt down the drain while the apartment groaned around them like it might finally give up and collapse. Somewhere deeper in the walls another crack split the silence. Steam moved through the ruined bathroom in slow, indifferent curls. Ji Hao's body against his felt too solid, too grounding, and that alone was enough to make Murphy's chest ache in ways far more dangerous than shattered glass or unstable probability ever could be.
He hated that Ji Hao still carried himself like a man halfway convinced he belonged in a grave. Even now, held there beneath the lukewarm water, Murphy could see it written all over him. Too violent. Too stained by his own choices to deserve the same mercy he gave everyone else. Every life Bloodborn had ever buried still clung to his skin no matter how much had already washed away tonight.
"Is it silly if I say," Murphy started quietly, gaze fixed on Ji Hao beneath dripping lashes, "you make me not hate my name?" Something uncertain moved across his face as he watched him. "It sounds different when you say it." His forehead dipped forward, nearly touching Bloodborn's shoulder as he tried to steady the riot happening inside his ribs, his mind flashing briefly back to the car. "But the car. Maybe I lost control when it happened to me. Maybe yours was intentional." He swallowed thickly, jaw tightening for half a second. "That doesn't erase the fact that you still pulled me out of danger tonight. You still helped me when that mirror blew apart. You stillā"
Care. The word nearly slipped free before he caught it and buried it behind his teeth. "I know what you've done. I know what you think it makes you." His thumb brushed once against the damp skin of Ji Hao's arm, slow and grounding. "But every time things go bad, you still throw yourself in front of the damage anyway. Every fucking time." A shaky exhale left him. God, they were both too tired for this. Too stripped raw to hide behind sarcasm and half-truths anymore. Every emotion sat exposed now, impossible to shove back down and ignore.
And then Murphy told the truth about the kiss. Not an accident. Not confusion. Not adrenaline. Intentional. He felt Ji Hao still against him after that, just for a second, something flickering across his face. Because Murphy knew exactly what he had done by saying it aloud. There was no taking it back now. No pretending it had simply happened in the chaos. He had wanted it. Some reckless, selfish part of him had looked at Bloodborn in that moment and chosen him anyway. "Yeah," Karma said softly, voice nearly drowned beneath the rushing water. "Turns out I kissed you on purpose. Tragic news for both of us." The joke came weak, fragile around the edges. Because Ji Hao was still holding him. Not out of obligation, not restraint, not fear. Murphy could feel it in the way the older man's arm stayed firm around his waist, in the unconscious pull keeping their bodies flush together beneath the spray. It would have been easy to step back. There was room to. Yet neither of them moved an inch.
That was when the discomfort finally caught up with him. His jeans had been soaked through since before they'd even made it upstairs, and now the denim had gone heavy and mean against his skin, chafing raw at his hips and thighs with every small shift of weight. Murphy grimaced faintly, glancing downward before working at the button with one hand, the other still loosely anchored at Ji Hao's side. Stubborn, clinging, completely indignant about being removed while he was still tangled up against another person in a cramped shower. A short, boyish sound escaped him, unguarded in a way most of his laughter wasn't. "Okay," he muttered, struggling as the waistband fought back with impressive dedication. "This isā hold on." The fabric peeled reluctantly, catching at his thighs. He had to shift awkwardly to work them down, which did absolutely nothing for his dignity and everything for the absurdity of the moment. Eventually he managed it, shoving the soaked jeans aside and exhaling like he'd won something small but real. When he looked back up at Ji Hao, the faint flush riding high on his cheekbones had nothing to do with the steam. "Only fair," he said, tilting his head slightly against Ji Hao's fingers where they still rested at his jaw. The movement was lazy, instinctive, the way an animal leans into a hand it's decided to trust. His mouth curved, small and wry. "You've seen basically everything else tonight anyway."
Water ran in rivulets down the bridge of his nose, pooling briefly at the corner of his mouth as his gaze drifted toward the soap forgotten in its shelf against the tile, something so mundane against everything the night had become. Then he looked back at Ji Hao. He studied him the way he rarely let himself, taking in the exhaustion etched into his face, the sharpness that still lived underneath it, the way Bloodborn existed in a room like he was always half-prepared to be asked to leave it. Murphy's throat worked once. "I'm glad I'm not alone," he said quietly, laying it out plain and open, something for Ji Hao to do whatever he wanted with. "At the end of the world." A small laugh escaped him. "I always admired you." Low, barely spoken, like he was afraid the walls themselves would overhear. "Even when you were the villain." His voice dropped further, nearly beneath the sound of the water entirely. "Ji Hao." The name sat differently in his mouth than Bloodborn ever had. Like handling something fragile, or worse, something that might mean too much. His gaze dipped briefly before finding Ji Hao's eyes again. Neither of them moved. The building creaked somewhere overhead, indifferent to all of it.
Murphy's fingers slid upward, curling loosely against the back of Ji Hao's neck. The pulse beneath his fingertips was steady despite everything, despite the destruction and emotional wreckage still hanging between them. Human. Alive. When Ji Hao lifted his chin, Karma felt his pulse stumble hard in his chest. All he could hear was water crashing against porcelain and the uneven sound of both their breathing. Ji Hao's fingers at his jaw were warm despite everything, roughened from violence and survival and years of carrying too much death in his hands. Murphy looked up through wet strands of hair, and the intensity in Bloodborn's gaze pulled something loose in him. "Next time?" he asked softly. He leaned closer, not enough to kiss him, not yet, but enough that their breaths mixed warm between them, enough that the remaining space became almost unbearable. His gaze flickered once, briefly, helplessly, to Ji Hao's mouth before returning upward. "You keep looking at me like that," he murmured, "and we're probably gonna bring the whole fucking building down ourselves." The world could end tomorrow. Hell, at this rate, it could end tonight. And somehow this still felt like the most dangerous thing in the room. "Also," Murphy added quietly, breath ghosting warm between them, "the soup is probably cold by now. So, I don't think everything will be alright."
