Sometimes, Silence Is Best

                                    

                                          
Hawks returned home bruised and exhausted. He looked so defeated you didn't know what to say to him. He glanced up at you and forced an unfamiliar smile before looking back down at the ground. He slowly kicked off his shoes and let his jacket fall to the floor. His crimson wings drooped and slide along the floor as he walked to the bathroom.
                          
Worry led you to the bathroom and slowly opened it to see him washing his hands that had dirt, grime, and whatever else it could have been. He didn't look up at you this time. He slowly turned on the shower and you watched as he tugged off his clothes to reveal the splotched artwork that were his injuries.
                          
Not once did he wince from the pain, nor did his expression change from the look of defeat. You stepped in the bathroom and helped him wash his body and hair and wings. He stood there as you carefully scrubbed the fresh wounds and ignored the water splashing onto the floor.
                          
As you helped him shower, you tried to come up with something to say. Work would obviously be a touchy subject, but you didn't do anything that was worth saying. Today was just a boring day for you, but Hawks had a horrible day and you didn't know what to do to make it better.
                          
You handed him a towel which he used to slowly dry himself as you used another to dry his hair. At some point, as you patted his hair and pressed the spots that were dripping, he was staring at you. Usually when he stared he would respond with something flirty or smile at you, but he still looked so filled with melancholy.
                          
You cupped his face in your hands and he leaned into your touch wordlessly. You desperately wanted to say something to him—anything to make him feel somewhat better but still nothing came.
                          
Instead, you led him to the bedroom and let him put on clothes as you grabbed the medkit. You waited on the edge of the bed before he kneeled on the floor. You carefully applied creams to his bruises and ointments for the small scratches before putting bandaids on them. He watched you care for him with a gentle touch as he waited patiently for you to finish.
                          
You turned off the lights when he slowly climbed in and you pulled him into your embrace. His arms snaked around your torso and hugged you back. You felt his body exhale slowly into your chest. You kissed the top of his head and felt him dig more into you as if wanting to hide from his negative emotions.
                          
"Thank you...," you heard him whisper and you kissed his head again. You ran your hands through his hair in response, combing out the semi-wet locks and feeling one wing slowly spread out over you.