Darkness

The lights cut out without warning.

The room dropped into black so quickly Claire’s breath caught before she understood why.

The radiator fell silent. The low hum that had filled the space disappeared, leaving something sharper behind—stillness, complete and immediate.

“Rowan?”

“I’m here.”

The answer came from across the room. Closer than Claire expected.

A faint scrape—fabric, movement—then a soft click. A thin beam of light cut through the dark as Rowan’s phone illuminated, sweeping once across the floor, the desk, the line of the rug.

It landed on Claire.

She stood exactly where she had been, one hand still resting on the edge of her desk, fingers curled too tightly around nothing.

“It’s probably the whole building,” Rowan said.

Claire nodded, then realized Rowan couldn’t see it outside the narrow cone of light.

“Yes,” she said. “That makes sense.”

The beam shifted away, tracing the window.

Rain tapped against the glass—faster now, heavier. A thin line of water had already worked its way through the frame, dripping steadily onto Claire’s bed.

Claire stepped forward before thinking.

“That—” She stopped. Adjusted. “My mattress.”

Rowan angled the light back. The sheet darkened where the water spread, soaking through in uneven patches.

“Yeah,” Rowan said. “That’s not great.”

Claire moved to the window, pressing her palm against the frame. It didn’t seal. The rain kept coming.

“It wasn’t doing this earlier.”

“Storm picked up.”

Claire exhaled, sharp. “I’ll just—” She looked down at the floor. “I’ll take the floor.”

Rowan didn’t answer immediately.

The light shifted again, lowering, catching the space between the two beds.

“No,” she said finally. “Take mine.”

Claire turned. “No, that’s not necessary.”

“It’s already dry.”

“That’s not the point.”

“What is the point?”

Claire hesitated. The question lingered longer than it should have.

“I can manage,” she said.

Rowan stepped closer, the beam of light rising with her movement. It hit Claire’s shoulder, then her face again.

“You don’t have to,” Rowan said.

The words landed differently in the dark.

Claire held her gaze, even through the narrow light.

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not.”

Silence stretched between them, thinner now, more exposed without the room’s usual structure.

Rain tapped harder against the glass.

Claire glanced back at her bed. The damp had spread further, the sheet clinging unevenly to the mattress.

She looked down at the floor again.

Then back at Rowan.

“We can share,” Rowan said.

Not hesitant. Not casual either.

Just offered.

Claire’s chest tightened.

The room felt smaller again—but this time, not because of distance.

Because there wasn’t any.

The light clicked off.

Darkness settled fully.

For a moment, neither of them moved.

Then Claire crossed the room.

She didn’t think about the rug. Didn’t look down to see where the line was. She felt it under her feet anyway—the slight change in texture—and kept going.

The bed dipped slightly as she sat.

Rowan shifted beside her, the mattress adjusting under the added weight. Their shoulders didn’t touch, but the space between them narrowed to something precise.

Defined.

Claire folded her hands in her lap.

“Thank you,” she said.

Rowan made a quiet sound that might have been acknowledgment.

They lay down after a moment, both facing the ceiling.

The dark pressed closer here. Without the visual boundaries of the room, everything felt reduced to breath and proximity.

Claire focused on the space between them.

Measured it.

Counted it.

Then lost track.

Rowan shifted slightly, turning onto her side.

“You don’t have to hold everything together,” she said.

Claire turned her head.

She couldn’t see Rowan clearly, just the outline—darker against the dark—but she could feel where she was. The warmth, closer now.

“That’s not what I’m doing.”

“It is.”

Claire’s jaw tightened.

“It works.”

Rowan didn’t respond right away.

When she did, her voice was quieter.

“For what?”

Claire didn’t answer.

The silence that followed felt different from before. Not empty. Not controlled.

Waiting.

Claire became aware of her breathing again—too shallow, too careful.

She exhaled.

Let it deepen.

The space between them shifted with it.

Not gone.

But changed.

Rowan didn’t move away.

Neither did Claire.

Outside, the rain slowed slightly, the rhythm softening against the window.

Inside, the room held them both.

Without lines.

Without division.

Claire closed her eyes.

The darkness didn’t feel as sharp anymore.

Still unfamiliar.

Still unstructured.

But not entirely unmanageable.

Not with Rowan there.