I stop eating immediately and stare at him, unable to disguise the surprise in my eyes.

Gavin quickly explains himself, the familiar soothing gesture emerging:

"The bed is quite spacious, it can comfortably accommodate four people. I... I just want you to feel safe. I-I... I don't want to leave you alone downstairs."

He still didn't trust me. Of course not, how could he after that disaster? And he was right. He should have been traumatized. And I myself wasn't entirely sure that I wasn't a hundred percent willing to try again.

The longer I stayed in his company, the more I saw a spirit of care that I hadn't seen in ages. The fact that he continued to communicate with me even though I couldn't verbalize a single word was more than enough proof of his character, intention, and willingness.

So I take a deep breath, considering his invitation. Sleeping in his room and in the same bed, with a comfortable distance between us would be difficult, but I would feel much worse being alone in the guest room. At least in the silent nights, which was when the voices and sensations began to attack with more ferocity.

Gavin approaches the table, opening his heart:

"I have a bathroom in my room, which I'll keep locked just for safety until everything calms down. You can call me anytime to take you there if you want. During the day you can stay downstairs, I'll respect your privacy and your need for distance. I just ask that you always keep the door open. And... If you... If you feel like... Giving up everything again... Please, please, come to me."

I continue to look at him, emotions evident on my face. I can no longer control my expressions, nor can I diminish the intensity of my reactions. And of course, he notices. I see his clear eyes shining more and more. He continues to walk very slowly towards me.

Before he can take another step, I nod. And a much more energetic nod than all the previous ones, so that he knows I am truly willing to do it.

It's strange. Why do I want to reassure this guy so much? My own life is literally hanging by a thread, but I want to please this guy.

Well, this guy saved my life. Twice.

I guess I can return the favor, even if with something as small as following this little request.

I know he will respect me. He's not like the others who only wore masks to fit the situation and then took them off when there was no longer a need. And I'm sure his best friend was like that too: honest, loyal, and spirited.

Seeing my positive reaction, he smiles so big and so sincere that it almost hurts. A smile of relief and, dare I say, hope.

Then I go back to eating, with a strange and comforting warmth falling over my shoulders.