POV: Kim
He carried me to the bed.
I registered this the way you register things when your brain is running on reduced capacity — distantly, warmly, without any of the commentary that usually accompanied events in this building. The floor to the mattress. His arms. The specific, enveloping heat of him arranging me with a matter-of-factness that managed to be both entirely unsentimental and the most comfortable I'd been since the morning everything started.
He lay down behind me.
One arm under my head. His chest at my back. The weight of him, present and warm, like a furnace someone had decided to make inhabitable. His skin against mine where the shirt had ridden up, his breath slow and even at the nape of my neck, and every place his body touched mine still humming with the specific, r
