Ezra stared at the, unfortunately, familiar ceiling.
The same ceiling.
The same patterns.
The same place he had been trying not to think about since the moment he stepped inside this room.
He lay on the king-sized bed, unmoving, his body still while his mind refused to follow.
Beside him, Lior slept soundly.
Quiet and peaceful.
Which was a relief.
Sprawled out like a little starfish, his arms and legs spread without care, the soft rise and fall of his chest steady, the faint sound of his breathing almost soothing.
The kind of sight that would normally ease something in Ezra.
Ground him.
Remind him what mattered.
Ezra knew that.
He knew all he had to do was turn his head, just a little, and look at him.
That would be enough.
It always was.
But he didn't.
He couldn't.
Because right now—
That wasn't what he needed.
He felt like he needed his frustration.
The tension in his chest.
The anger that refused to settle.
If he let it go now—
