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“They’ve only been here the once, and they’re curious about where you live.” Rook closed the door behind them. “They want to understand what made you feel safe before me.”

“Do you want the clinical analysis version, or an honest answer?”

“Both.”

“This apartment made me feel...contained. Not safe exactly. There’s a difference.” Ethan watched the shadows pull books off his shelf, examining titles before carefully replacing them. “Safe implies protection. This was isolating myself in a space I controlled. That gave me the illusion of safety.”

One shadow discovered his anxiety workbook tucked between a cookbook and a medical dictionary. It seized the workbook triumphantly and dragged it across the floor to Rook like a dog presenting a stick.

Rook picked it up, flipping through pages covered in Ethan’s meticulous handwriting. “Did you really complete every one of these exercises twice?”

“I really wanted to make sure I’d done them right. It seemed important at the time.”

“That’s the most ‘you’ thing I’ve ever heard.” But Rook’s voice carried warmth, not judgment.

Ethan wasn’t sure what to make of that assessment, but he had packing to accomplish. “Yes, well, I need a suitcase, or a travel bag might be more useful. They’re in the bedroom closet.”

The bedroom felt even more wrong than the living room. His bed was still perfectly made, his pillows arranged symmetrically, and the comforter pulled tight enough to bounce a coin on it. Ethan had made his bed hundreds of times, following the same pattern, and maintaining the same crisp corners. Now it just looked small and rather sad.

Pulling his bag from the closet, Ethan set it on the mattress. Rook’s shadows immediately started pulling clothes from hangers, draping shirts and pants across the bed in an enthusiastic but completely disorganized pile.

Chuckling, Ethan shook his head. “You’re not really helping.”

“They think they are.” Rook leaned against the doorframe, a big grin on his face as he watched his shadows attempt to fold a shirt. “They’ve never seen someone pack before.”

“That’s evident from their technique.” Ethan rescued his shirts and folded them properly, stacking them in the bag by weight and fabric type. “You know, the more I think about it, the more I think I don’t want to keep this apartment.” He glanced up at Rook to see his mate had gone very still.

“What does that mean exactly?”

Focusing on the packing, Ethan said, “My lease is month-to-month, so it won’t be a problem to leave, and, if you didn’t mind, I think I’d rather live at Shadow House permanently.”

Ethan kept his eyes down, mentally testing each word carefully. “My data supports this conclusion. At Shadow House, I sleep better - seven point three hours average compared to five point eight here. My anxiety symptoms decreased by forty-two percent in the first three days. I have consistent social interaction with people who understand my communication patterns and who see my paranoia and attention to detail as a bonus, not a nuisance. And most importantly, you’re there.”

“Ethan.”

“Also, the coffee is significantly better, and Julian mentioned reorganizing the library to include more art texts, of which I have many in storage, so there would be room for them there.” Ethan folded another shirt. “From a purely logical standpoint, relocating permanently makes sense, and I just feel...”

In a flash, Rook was by his side, catching hold of his hands. “Are you sure? Are you absolutely sure? I want you with me every second of the day, but I recognize that can be seen as possessive, and that this is your space. A space that gives you independence.”

“Independence isn’t a lot of fun if a person is lonely. This place represents the isolation that I mistook for independence because I didn’t know the difference.” Ethan met Rook’s gaze directly. “Now I do. I prefer Shadow House. I prefer you. All my data points to you being the safer and more romantic option.”

“More romantic than what?”

“Than living alone in a too-quiet apartment, sleeping poorly, and pretending that showing professional courtesy to people who don’t deserve it was sufficient human interaction.”

Rook winced. “That’s a very low bar for living.”

“And you exceed it…significantly.” Ethan squeezed Rook’s hands. “I’m certain about this decision, if you’ll have me. I know you’re used to having your own space, too, but all relevant factors on my side support permanent relocation.”

Rook’s expression shifted from concern to something that looked like joy. “You want to live with me.”

“Yes. Was that unclear?”

“No, it was perfectly clear. I just…” Ethan was suddenly face-planted on Rook’s chest, his back covered in shadows. “You’re moving in. Permanently.”

“That was my stated intention, yes.” Ethan had to move his face to one side, so the words weren’t muffled by Rook’s jacket.

“I love you so much.”