The next day, neither of them means to seek the other out.
But they do.
Mary opens her door at the same moment Adrian opens his.
Both freeze.
He's holding a trash bag probably the first one he's taken out in weeks.
Her hair is damp, sweater sleeves pulled over her hands, clearly intending to slip out unnoticed.
They stare.
For a second, both consider retreating.
Closing their doors.
Pretending this wasn't happening.
But something holds them there
a thin thread, delicate but undeniable.
"Hey," Adrian says quietly.
Mary's chest tightens.
His voice is still soft, still tired, but no longer hollow.
"Hi," she whispers.
They stand in awkward, fragile silence until Mary gestures toward the elevator.
"Going down?"
He nods.
They walk together slowly like two people still learning how to move beside someone else without flinching.
Inside the elevator, Mary stands in the corner, arms wrapped around herself.
Adrian stands beside her, carrying the trash bag like it weighs more than it should.
The metal doors slide shut, trapping them in a small, humming box.
Mary hates enclosed spaces.
Her breath starts to quicken.
Adrian notices.
"You okay?" he asks softly.
She nods too fast.
He hesitates, then steps half a foot to the side giving her more space.
She notices immediately
and breathes a little easier.
The elevator dings.
They step out into the dim lobby.
Adrian tosses his bag in the dumpster chute.
Mary watches, voice quiet.
"That's the first time you've left your apartment in a while… isn't it?"
He freezes for a second.
Then nods.
"It felt… impossible," he admits, "until now."
Mary looks down, fighting the warmth creeping up her throat.
She swallows.
"You don't have to push yourself for me," she murmurs.
He meets her eyes slowly.
"I didn't," he says.
"You just make things feel… less heavy."
Her breath catches.
She wants to deny it.
Deflect it.
Tell him he's wrong.
Tell him she's not someone who makes anything lighter.
But the sincerity in his eyes is too real.
Too gentle.
"Thank you," she whispers.
They step outside.
The morning air is cold, damp from last night's rain.
Mary closes her eyes, letting the breeze hit her face.
Adrian notices the way her shoulders slowly drop the tension releasing, if only a little.
"You like the cold?" Adrian asks.
She nods.
"Warms my head," she says quietly.
"Makes the thoughts quieter."
Adrian looks at the sky.
"Mine too."
Their eyes meet.
Not by accident this time.
Mary tugs at her sleeve.
"Do you… want to walk a little? Just around the block. If you're okay with that."
He hesitates.
Not because he doesn't want to.
But because the world outside still feels too big.
Mary sees that hesitation.
Her voice softens to a whisper.
"We can turn back anytime."
That helps.
They walk.
Side by side.
Slow, cautious steps.
No touching.
No pressure.
Just two broken people sharing the same sidewalk.
Halfway down the block, Mary stops suddenly.
Adrian turns.
"What's wrong?"
She's staring at a nearby alley dark, narrow, shadowed.
Her hands shake uncontrollably.
Adrian steps closer.
But gently.
Not touching her.
"Mary…?" he whispers.
Her voice cracks.
"I don't like alleys," she says.
Then after a moment.
"I had a bad experience once."
His heart twists.
"You don't have to talk about it," he says immediately.
But Mary shakes her head.
"No… I want to tell you. Just… not today."
He nods.
"Whenever you're ready."
Her eyes soften-
grateful, surprised, afraid.
She takes one shaky step back toward him, away from the alley.
Close enough that their shoulders nearly touch.
Not quite.
But close.
"Thank you," she whispers.
Adrian doesn't say anything.
He just stays where he is solid, quiet, present.
The wind picks up.
Mary shivers.
"You cold?" Adrian asks.
She nods, embarrassed.
"It happens when I get… triggered."
He gives her his jacket without thinking.
Just shrugs it off and drapes it over her shoulders.
Mary freezes.
"…Adrian."
"It's okay," he says softly.
She grips the fabric, shaking.
No one has done something so small and gentle for her in years.
Not without expecting something in return.
"Thank you," she whispers again
but this time it sounds like something breaking open.
They walk back home.
Not because they failed-
but because they lasted longer than either expected.
When they reach their doors, Mary looks up at him.
"You did good today," she murmurs.
"So did you," he replies.
Their eyes hold for a moment too long.
Not romantic.
Not yet.
Just two souls recognizing each other in the dark.
Before she slips inside, Mary whispers.
"We'll try again tomorrow?"
Adrian nods.
A small, trembling smile forms.
"…Yeah. Tomorrow."