#umbrie

Eileen didn’t quite know how toanswer, but that in itself was something Henry could understand too.In lieu of giving it away so boldly in the open, she simply beckonedhim inside. As he entered his gaze was concerned but not overlyworried, but still Eileen’s eyes dropped to the edge of the bath.

“How long has it been?”

“Not very long,” Henry assuredher, but his gaze remained on her to fill in the gaps. She was as offas she felt, though at the very least with him there wasn’t anyshame in the air. He closedthe toilet lid and sat down.

Henrymoved his hand and she finally realized that she had brought a crisppaperback with him. On the back she could see the remnants of a pricelabel that had been recently peeled off. Must’vebeen an early present that he figured better to give now than later.That happened a lot. Eileen never minded—it was simply born of theidea that he operated on the thought of the gift rather than theoccasion. She watched a smile appear on his lips.

“Thought you’d might likesomething to read,”

“Hmm,” Eileen craned her neck ashe showed the book to her. A curled finger went up to hide theembarrassing smile at the cheesy suburban romance. It wasn’tHenry’s thing—hell it was barely hers, but the fluffed andbloated writing helped chase away worse thoughts. Heenjoyed her expression for a moment before setting the book on thetoilet tank followed by a dry washcloth. Just in reach, if she wantedit, but not so close to the water that it posed any danger for thebook. A small laugh came out of her, though that was all she couldmanage, and she thanked him.

Itwasn’t long before, without her realizing it, she went back tostaring at the edges of the water in the silence that Henry provided.The images of filth and grimeweren’t as close to the surface as they were before, but they werestill there in her peripherals as her mind turned to blank.

Henry gave the showerhead a quickglance, seeing much the same as Eileen did. Assured that it was thesame simple unmarred showerhead it had always been since they hadmoved in, he heaved a breath, jarring her from her own stupor.

Eileen blinked, seeingHenry shift out of the corner of her vision. He was watching her now,that much she knew, but shedidn’t look back at him. Instead she ran her hands down her legsagain, following up by dipping her head under the clean (filthy)water. The numbers on herback arced out, the pink and white flesh stretchingin ways that seemed unnatural if only for how they were written.Henry’s eyes remained on her, she could tell. Grunting meeklyunderwater, Eileen then resurfaced and smoothed her hair back, stillstaring, still somewhat distant. The warm water running down her skinmade her shiver and flinch even as she tried to muscle through thefeeling.

Henry moved down to kneel beside thetub, reaching out and placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. Eileenhummed, weak, and let his thumb rub over her skin. Hewas warm in a way the water wasn’t—like gentle candlelightinstead of spilled blood. Thehum in her throat continued as his hand slowly wandered, ghostingover the scarred numbers with great care. Her brow furrowed. Eyesclosed, breath stilled, fingers behind her ears tensed.

But then it passed. Henry’s handremained where it was, feeling her relax with a gentle roll of herspine as she scooted farther into hold.

“Love you, Eileen,” his voicerasped as it always did when emotion choked him until he was too shyto speak.

Her hum came to a stop with a smallquirk of her lips and she moved to bring his hand back to hershoulder only so she could kiss it sweetly.