Closed Mending
The door remained closed, but he could hear Maksimov's voice, just beyond it. That in itself calmed Himal, though his mind was still not functioning as well as it might. What could he say to the other man? What could he do with the knowledge that his greatest friend felt he was in love with him? Himal couldn't think.

"Of course not." Is all he can say.
His tears fell freely, and he thanked something. God? He thanked perhaps Himal, in the form of some other material plane, for having patience. The sound of the lock clicking open was the only sound made, as he fell short of opening it. He was afraid to see Himal's expression. Perhaps his tone was masking a frown, a contemptuous glare or look of disgust...
Though he heard the door unlock, Himal still hesitated to open it. Now that the moment had arrived, he did not know what he must do. What he must say. Maksimov's letter had been entirely too much, and he could find no way to match it with his own words. It was beyond him, and without these words, how would he persuade Maksimov to remain?

"I am coming in now," he said, gently, and slowly opened the door.

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