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Lock the door, turn the corner. Robert took each step very carefully, after leaving his old room. He had to tell himself what to do, step by step. No thinking ahead. No pushing himself too far. If he thought too far ahead, he knew he'd start to freak himself out. So he refused, simplifying his thoughts into basic tasks in order.

Walk forward. Head down the hall. Don't bump into Jordan as you walk.

This was where he paused, because he hadn't expected to see anyone in the hallway, but seeing Jordan was the most wonderful distraction he could have asked for. His face lit up in a bright grin, and he took in a breath, ready to let out that characteristically loud greeting.

But the words died in his throat.

Jordan was soaking wet, but that didn't bother him. It was the look of a man that he considered his greatest role model, broken and empty as he left his own room. Jordan looked terrible, and Robert could think of only one reason a guy like him could have a day that bad. His shoulders slumped in defeat.

"Who died." It was a sincere question; and he half-winced as he waited to hear the name. So many possibilities started to flood his thoughts. He needed to be put out of his misery.

The wince relaxed, but Robert couldn't help but sense that death was in the air, regardless of his best friends words. Whether or not it was a person really didn't matter - he'd just finished dealing with his own special form of death for an hour of so directly before this. He felt the same haunting signs. That meant he probably didn't need to know.

So instead, he wrapped his arms around Jordan, and pulled him in hard, slamming his friend in for a painfully tight bear hug. He even pet Jordan's hair, which was kind of childish, but he didn't know better.

"You need anything?" He knew the kind of questions he needed to ask, at times like these. They were the same questions Jordan had asked him, when Clarice had died. And when he'd admitted that he'd left Petra. A different kind of death.

At first, Robert felt a great swell of impatience at his own stupidity. Of course Jordan was going to ask for a place to stay, because what else could someone need? And yet, he'd known - he'd known! That was something impossible for him. He was already cramped up in that tiny room with poor Lucky, and Mimsy. It was a situation he was quickly working on - one that he knew he alone had the power to fix. But at the moment, he had no floor to offer.

"I don't-" But that was a lie, wasn't it? He's just left a perfectly good floor, and walls, and even a couch. Admittedly there was no bed, but - what did it even matter? Jordan needed a place to crash, and Robert had a place.

He knew Petra would never have minded. Jordan was almost as much a part of their life as they were to each other. But Petra wasn't his greatest worry, at the moment.

"Yeah. Actually, I just came from my old room. It's cleaned out, and you'll have to sleep on the couch, but it's super comfy. That all right?" He released Jordan and pulled his keys back out of his pocket, along with his phone.

"No problem, boss." Robert patted Jordan's back hard, and then turned to lead him back down the hall. In one hand, he had his phone flipped open, slowly texting.



It took him the entire length of the walk to get that text out, which meant the walk had been in silence, though it really wasn't that far. When he got to the door, he unlocked it again, and walked back in.

It felt like a completely different room. More importantly, it felt uninhabited. Empty. And that was what he needed it to be right now.

He unhooked the key from his keychain, and dropped it on the counter beside the door. Jordan was going to need it, while he was there. "Come on in." He offered, moving forward to hold the door for his friend.

Jordan followed Robert, not sure whether he felt numb or overloaded. The silence was fine with him. He didn't know what to say, or how. He nodded thanks again as Robert invited him in.

The room was weirdly empty, different from the way it had been when Robert lived there with Petra, different from the smaller room down in the basement. It smelled of settled dust and cleaning products. Nobody had been here for some time. The layout was familiar, but the space was uninhabited. Jordan walked over to put his duffel bag down beside the couch, then over to the window to look at at the storm that was now angrily lashing the island.

He hoped that Rep and Harrison would have the sense to stay put. Harrison would, anyway. He was practical like that. The thought sank down below Jordan's ribs and twisted painfully, and he flattened his hand against the wall, bowing his head again as he struggled with the heavy knowledge that he hadn't stayed, that he wasn't needed anymore, that Rep hadn't wanted him there.

"We've been fighting a lot, lately," Jordan said, not turning around. "Tonight -- " His voice choked off, and it took him a moment to get it back. "Rep said he doesn't know if he loves me any more." He'd gotten it out. The words sank in the silence.

His fingers curled in, the nails biting into his palm. "I don't know what's going to happen. But I couldn't stay in our room tonight."

"Thanks, man," Jordan said, turning around finally. "Don't want anyone to know yet. There's a few people who'd be happy about it, and I don't know if I can take that right now."

He looked down at himself, finally letting himself notice that he was cold and damp, and started pulling his coat off. "I gotta change. I was out there when the rain started." He moved over to take his towel and the sweatpants and t-shirt he slept in out of the duffel bag. Going through the motions of taking care of himself would help him stay grounded. "I wouldn't mind if you hung out for a while. Nowhere else you need to be?"