Seven hours.
Seven whole, hours was how long it took for them to finally be allowed to go back ho.
If there was one thing Aris was completely sure about. It was that the association was unrivaled in making people waste their tis. Honestly, what had even been the point in interrogating each and every one of them for hours? Repeating the sa damn questions like the answer was going to spontaneously appear out of thin air.
Safe to say that he was annoyed by the ti he was in a taxi going back ho.
It was tis like these he realized just how much he didn’t like interacting with people. At least his stuffed animals at ho didn’t treat him like a walking bomb for saving people.
He was already feeling drowsy by the ti, he reached ho, quietly thanking and paying the taxi driver, he mindlessly walked into his apartnt, making sure to not make any noise as not to disturb his neighbours.
The apartnt was quiet in that way only late nights could manage, the kind of quiet where even the hum of the refrigerator felt deliberate.
He stood at the entrance for a long mont, leaning on his closed door as he let go of all the worries clouding his mind.
He didn’t feel like eating anything this late, so he just changed into sothing comfortable and went and got ready for bed.
Aris stood in the bathroom doorway for a mont before stepping inside, flicking on the light with his elbow. The mirror caught him mid-yawn, hair falling loosely around his face, sweater sleeves hanging past his wrists.
He stared at his reflection for a few seconds.
Dust still clung faintly to the ends of his hair from the day. There was a thin scrape along his collarbone where a stone had grazed him. It had already healed. Mana made sure of that.
Still.
He reached up and brushed his fingers lightly over it.
Old habits rarely went away.
He tied his hair back loosely, not tight enough to pull, just enough to keep it out of the way. The elastic sat around his wrist for a second before he fixed it properly, movents absentminded.
He turned on the tap and let the water run warm before splashing his face. The shock of it made him inhale sharply. He cupped more water, pressing it against his skin as if it might wash off sothing deeper than dust.
The cleanser sat on the edge of the sink.
He picked it up.
Technically, his skin didn’t need it. Mana reinforcent kept it unnaturally clear. Even moderate injuries rarely left marks.
But he still squeezed a small amount into his palm.
Habit, again.
He worked it into a soft lather, slow circles along his cheeks, his jaw, the bridge of his nose. The foam slid cool and faintly scented across his skin. Lavender. He’d chosen it because it was subtle, and he liked the idea of slling good up close.
He rinsed carefully, making sure nothing lingered along his hairline.
Then he reached for the toner.
Completely unnecessary.
He knew that.
He dabbed it onto a cotton pad anyway, sweeping it across his face with quiet precision. The motion was almost ditative. asured. Controlled.
There was sothing grounding about routines.
Dungeons shifted. Mana too, moved unpredictably and so monsters even evolved mid-fight.
But this?
This stayed the sa.
Moisturizer next.
He ward it between his fingers before pressing it gently into his smooth skin. Not rubbing, pressing.
Tap, tap, tap along his cheekbones.
Across his forehead.
Down his neck.
He leaned slightly closer to the mirror, inspecting nothing in particular. His lashes cast faint shadows under the bathroom light. His expression was neutral, but softer now.
Calr.
He reached for a small jar on the side.
Lip balm.
Also unnecessary.
He applied it anyway.
Then stood there for a mont longer than needed, just looking at himself.
"You’re fine," he murmured quietly.
He untied his hair, combed through it carefully with his fingers first, then with a brush. Slow strokes from ends upward. He winced once when it snagged, then adjusted his angle.
He liked brushing it out at night.
The repetition made his thoughts settle.
When he was done, he braided it loosely over one shoulder. It kept it from tangling when he slept.
He turned off the light and padded back into the bedroom.
The sweater slipped off one shoulder as he moved, exposing smooth skin that carried no evidence of what he’d done earlier that day. No sign that he had unbound sothing ancient and vast, sothing that had never been defeated.
He changed into sleep shorts and an oversized silk shirt that nearly swallowed him whole.
He paused by the window before climbing into bed.
The city lights flickered below. Distant traffic. A stray dog barking sowhere.
Normal.
He liked normal. It was so much better than the tension of dungeons.
He slipped under the covers and turned onto his side, pulling the blanket up to his chin. The mattress dipped slightly as he shifted, adjusting his body like a cat until everything felt just right.
For a mont, he stared at the dark ceiling.
He could still feel it when things got quiet.
That quiet depth beneath his ribs.
Not loud. Not demanding.
Just... there.
Like sothing imnse resting far below the surface.
He rolled onto his other side, burying his face halfway into the pillow.
"Don’t start," he muttered softly.
The feeling didn’t respond.
It never did.
After a while, his breathing evened out.
The city continued outside.
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