He listens, and that matters. Alan rarely speaks so much of himself in a breath. To find that Anders has heard, it's —

— The best he can offer, and no falsehood for it. Alan's head tips up to settle into the silence. A spider makes slow passes between the cross-poles, weaves itself a home within the corners.

"I can't outrun it." Neither of them can. The past owns a rapid pace, of late. "So maybe I need to let it find me."

Not be led to it, not like that again, a dog on a lead. No: Wear the skin of it, those places he's from, the truths he's felt. Let them see who he is, and let himself know it, too. If you hold any shape long enough, it starts to seem as though it's all that's there.

And he's been holding hidden for twelve years.

"Was it — is it better?"

Now that they've found Anders.