I looked up. "Am I?"
"You have a face you make when you're processing." He crossed to the couch and sat beside me, close enough that our thighs touched. "What's going on in that chaotic brain, baby?"
"Just noticing things."
"What things? Don’t be quiet now. I want to know it all."
"How I've started waking up early even though I don't have to. Or how I put my weapons back in their spots because you created a system that makes sense." I set the bowl in my lap aside. "How you've basically imposed your entire routine on me, and I didn't even notice until today."
Henny went still. "Does that bother you?"
I turned to face him fully. "No. And that's what's weird. It should bother me. I've always avoided routine and structure. But yours? Yours feels safe. Like the world is better inside it."
His expression softened. "You seem calmer lately too. More settled."
"I am." The admission felt big. "I didn't realize how exhausting it was, living in chaos all the time. Making decisions from scratch every day. Now I wake up and know what's happening. Everything has a place and a time. I don't have to think about it."
"Structure can be comforting," Henny said quietly. "Especially for people whose work is unpredictable."
"Is that why you're like this? Because of the job?"
He leaned back, and I automatically shifted to curl into his side. "Partly, yes. Growing up in this world meant constantinstability. Violence could erupt at any moment. Loyalties shifted. People disappeared. Creating routine was how I coped. If I could control my own schedule, my own space, then at least part of my life was stable."
I'd never thought about it that way. Henny's need for order wasn't just preference. It was survival.
"And now you're sharing that stability with me.”
"I want to." His arm came around my shoulders. "You give me freedom in other ways. You take the weight of having to be on guard off me when we're together. Let me just exist without having to be in focused of everything around me. I know I’m safe with you."
The exchange made perfect sense. I gave him submission, the relief of not having to put on his tough exterior. He gave me structure, the comfort of knowing where I fit.
"I like it. Your routines. The way you do things.”
He pressed a kiss to my temple. "That’s very good, baby. Because I'm not planning to stop."
"Please don't." I tilted my head back to look at him. "I know I joke about it, but seriously, Henny. You can organize my whole life from now ‘til forever. I trust your systems more than I trust my own mind."
His eyes searched mine. "You really mean that."
"I really do." I cupped his jaw. "For the first time in my life, I feel like I fit somewhere. Like there's a place carved out specifically for me and all my mess. You did that."
"You're not a mess, baby. You're just… high energy," he said firmly.
I laughed. "That's a diplomatic way to put it."
"It's accurate. And your energy fits perfectly with my need for structure. You keep me from getting rigid. I keep you from spinning out." His thumb traced my cheekbone. "We balance each other."
The word balance resonated in my chest. That's what this was. Not one person fixing the other, but two people finding happiness together.
"What time is it?" I asked.
Henny checked his watch. "Ten fifteen."
"Bedtime is soon, then."
His lips quirked. "You don't have to follow my schedule that precisely."
"But I want to." I kissed him quick and sweet. "Because when we go to bed at your time, I know you'll be there next to me. And when I wake up, you'll be there. It's predictable and steady. Plus, it gives me more time with the one person I want to be with most."
