The hallway outside the interrogation room smelled like disinfectant and old rain.
Noah stood there longer than necessary after the door closed.
He told himself it was procedure.
He told himself it was habit.
He told himself nothing at all when his hand didn't immediately drop from the light switch.
Finally, he turned back.
Evan was still sitting exactly where he had been left.
Coffee untouched.
Lights dim.
Shoulders drawn slightly inward, like the room had grown heavier the moment Noah stepped away.
"You're not supposed to still be here," Evan said quietly.
No accusation.
Just surprise.
Noah closed the door behind him.
"I forgot something."
Evan waited.
Noah didn't know what that something was.
"You're being moved to observation," Noah said instead. "Temporary room. Camera. Guard outside."
Evan nodded.
"Like an animal that might bite."
"Like someone we don't understand."
Evan's mouth twitched faintly. "That's worse."
Noah hesitated, then glanced at the coffee cup.
"Why didn't you drink it?"
Evan followed his gaze.
"I didn't want my hands to shake."
"They already are."
Evan looked down.
They were.
Not violently. Not enough to be obvious. But enough to betray him.
"I don't like when people notice," he murmured.
Noah surprised himself by pulling out the chair and sitting.
The metal creaked softly between them.
"You think I don't see it?" Noah said. "The way you sit like you're bracing for impact. The way you count exits. The way your breathing changes when doors open."
Evan didn't look up.
"You're supposed to see lies," he said. "Not damage."
"I'm bad at following instructions."
Silence settled again, thick and close.
Evan whispered, "If I'm wrong one day…"
Noah didn't answer.
"If I walk in here and someone doesn't die… you'll still lock me up."
"Yes."
"And if I walk in and someone does…"
Noah's jaw tightened.
"I'll hate you."
Evan nodded once.
"That's fair."
He stared at the table, eyes unfocused.
"My mother used to say I had a gift."
Noah's attention sharpened instantly.
"She said I was sensitive. That I felt the world too loudly." Evan swallowed. "She said it like it was beautiful."
Noah's voice softened despite himself.
"Where is she now?"
Evan didn't answer.
Noah tried again, quieter.
"How is she?"
Evan's fingers pressed into the edge of the table.
For a moment, Noah thought he wouldn't speak at all.
"She's… gone."
The word was almost soundless.
Noah felt something shift in his chest.
"When?" he asked.
Evan shook his head.
"I don't measure time like that anymore."
Noah waited.
Evan finally lifted his eyes.
"She died thinking I was exaggerating."
The room seemed to hold its breath.
"She thought I was dramatic. That I made things heavier than they were." His voice wavered for the first time. "She told me I'd grow out of it."
Noah said nothing.
"I didn't."
The silence after that was different.
Not empty.
Full.
Noah leaned back slightly, as if giving Evan space to exist without defense.
"You don't exaggerate," he said quietly.
Evan looked up.
For a second, something cracked.
Not loudly.
Just enough.
"That's the problem."
Footsteps echoed in the corridor.
Reality returning.
Evan stood slowly when the guard appeared at the door.
His movements were careful. Measured. Like his body was made of something fragile he didn't trust.
He hesitated before stepping away.
Then softly:
"You really would kill me."
Noah didn't deny it.
"Yes."
Evan searched his face.
Not fear.
Relief.
"Good," Evan said. "Then at least one ending would be simple."
Noah's voice dropped.
"There are worse things than dying."
Evan met his eyes.
"I know."
The guard cleared his throat.
Noah stepped aside.
Evan paused before leaving.
"Detective?"
Noah looked at him.
"Thank you… for listening like it mattered."
The door closed behind him.
Noah remained standing in the room long after the hallway swallowed Evan whole.
Only then did he notice:
His hands were shaking.
He hadn't realized he was holding them like something fragile had just been placed there.