For a while, Zidane said nothing more, and I didn't bother him. His breaths slowly evened out before he moved away from me, a small smile on his lips.
"Thank you," he said, his eyes holding mine. "It does feel lighter."
I broke into a smile, then moved away from him, feeling the cold immediately seep into me. "Your hair is still wet."
He shrugged, his eyes holding mine, his expression unreadable. Right now, I knew better than to try to understand him. He would let me when he felt like it, and I would be here, patiently waiting.
"I'll help you," I said, then took the towel he had kept next to him in bed. He didn't say a word and simply let me, his breaths short as I stood before him.
We fell into comfortable silence as I dried off his hair, then just before I stepped away, I pushed my
