I sink into the bathtub, the water a perfect, scalding embrace. Steam rises in lazy spirals, curling against the marble walls and gilded fixtures, blurring the edges of the room until it feels like another world entirely.
A world without Moon. Without his relentless blue gaze, his impossible words, his confusing, consuming presence.
Neon. Just forget about him.
Just breathe.
I close my eyes. The water laps gently against my collarbone. The heat seeps into my muscles, loosening the knots of tension I've been carrying for days.
I let my head rest against the sloped back of the deep soaking tub.
Calm down.
Just calm down.
Then, touch.
Fingers. Brushing the bare skin of my chest.
Light.
Deliberate.
A slow, exploratory trail from my sternum upward, pausing over my racing heart.
My eyes fly open.
Moon is in the water with me. Seated in front of me, close enough that our knees brush beneath the surface.
