He got in Akiva’s shower but didn’t pull the curtain completely shut. Groaned under the spray, a noise that lengthened until it was halfway to a sob. Not knowing what else to do, Akiva shed his own clothes, folded them neatly, and set them on the closed lid of the toilet. His shower was snug, but they both fit. Eitan was standing under the showerhead a little numbly. After a moment, Akiva took him in his arms, Eitan’s back to his chest, the damp ends of Eitan’s hair brushing his mouth.
