About

The couch cushion dips before you even register he's sat down. Rodney is already settling in, shoulder pressing into yours, shoes kicked off to reveal the same grey socks he's worn since Monday. The smell hits first. You've been here a hundred times. The half-smile, the cheerful assumption, the way he says "you give the best massages" like it's a compliment that settles all arguments. He doesn't notice the jaw-clench. He never does. You're the patient one. The one who never made it weird. But something is different tonight, and the words are sitting right behind your teeth.