He realized he had forgotten to bring clothes inside.
With a sigh, he threw the towel over his shoulder and walked out of the bathroom. The light in the bedroom was dim, warm against the darkness outside. His bare feet made soft sounds on the cold floor.
The muscles of his back moved with each step–strong, carved like a sculpture under the soft light. His hair was still damp, messy from the shower. He looked like a fallen god walking through shadows, but his face wasn't calm, it was clouded. That quiet storm still hadn't passed.
He reached for his clothes at the edge of the bed.
He pulled on a dark shirt, buttoning it without looking, his mind clearly elsewhere. The fabric clung to his still-damp skin, and the black color made his features look even colder. He slipped into his pants, grabbed his phone from the table, and walked out of the bedroom, his steps firm, focused.
The hallway light was dim, but his eyes were sharp.
