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It isn't the sound of running water that catches Tatum's attention as he steps into the apartment. It's the other sounds, blending into the buzz of water falling onto the tiles, almost indistinguishable to other people, were that other person not Tatum.
But Tatum knows. He would recognize it anywhere, anytime.
It cannot be, though. For how long did he wish to hear it? Whole months, months of darkness, months of grief, months of silence.
When he himself cried, because the heaviness sitting on his chest was too much to handle without tears, all he wanted was for her to let out some of that burden out, too.
Lina's sobs.
He doesn't think twice before crossing the living room and walking into the bathroom.
"Lina," Tatum breathes out, his voice barely above a whisper.
She is curled on the floor of the shower enclosure, clothes still on.
"Lina," Tatum repeats and walks in, sits down next to her and the water burns his skin, but he doesn't care, doesn't turn it off, because this is Lina crying, his Lina, and his hand is shaking when he cups her cheek, his throat is tight and all he can do is whisper, for the third time: "Lina."
She doesn't say anything at first, doesn't even look up at him, but Tatum knows she feels his presence, knows by the way Lina leans into his touch.
"I am here," he whispers and takes a moment to turn the water off, just in time to realize that Lina's sobs are slowly subsiding too. "I am right here."
They stay like that for a long time and Tatum wants to ask so many things, wants to take her as she is, curled up against his chest and carry her somewhere, anywhere, away from this. But he doesn't - instead, he sits there, the wet clothes now cold, stiking to their bodies and it makes him shiver, still he stays as he is, waiting, unmoving.
"Tatum," Lina croaks out after a long moment and for the first time in weeks, she looks him in the eyes. Searches his face, as if believing she might find something there. Some hope, perhaps. Answers. A future that has been taken aways from them.
"Is it all my fault?" she asks after a long while and her voice breaks at the end.
Tatum's heart drops at the words.
He wants to shake her out of those thoughts, wants to scream, no, it was never your fault, none of this is of your doing, Lina.
Instead, he gets up and stops the water. Grabs the towels, sheds his wet clothes. All his movements steady, almost mechanical. Helps Lina get out of hers and drapes the towel around her shoulders. She lets him - after weeks, she lets him. Lets him help her, lets him in.
The room is silent, but not painfully so, not anymore. This is the silence Tatum knows between them, the understanding silence, the one that keeps them close.
It is only when they are both dry when he takes Lina's face into his hands again and speaks (quietly, gently, a slight tremor to his voice).
"It is not your fault, Lina. It is not my fault, either-"
"Of course it is not your fault," she interrupts. "How could it possibly be?"
There are still silent tears streaming down her face, her cheeks flushed, but after so long, Tatum sees Lina. Sees the woman he loves, not a shell of her.
"It sounds foolish to blame me, doesn't it? It is just as foolish to blame yourself," he whispers. "There is nobody to blame. But there is still something to love, Lina. Me. Yourself. Life itself"
Lina keeps looking at him, studies his face silently, tenderly and even though she doesn't say anything, he knows she wants him to talk.
"I know," he gulps, feeling his own tears in the corners of his eyes. "I know how much you are hurting and it pains me to think that you would hate yourself over this."
Silence fills the room once again as she hugs him tightly, nestles her head in the crook of his neck.
A heavy silence, indeed, but it's their silence. The one he is familiar with, the one he can read. Without speaking, there are words flying around them.
I am sorry. I need you. I am afraid of needing you so much. I have missed you. I cannot do this without you. I am scared. I love you, I love you, I love you.