The tap in the kitchen was drumming a steady beat of water. Danny didn't remember having not tightened it properly, but then he was feeling restless and careless and hardly ever noticed how when Zoe had been here the bin was always emptied and the dishes were washed because she always, always took care of things.
The lounge was a dark smudge in the night, with a hint of moonlight on the carpet guiding Danny's footsteps to the kitchen. The clock told that it was just after three am, but this was to be expected. It had been less than a week and he had woken consistently at around this time.
He loosened the tap and let some water spill into an abandoned glass on the side. The water was cold through the thin glass, refreshing, but Danny didn't take a sip, his eyes catching the photo perched on the shelf above the oven.
A picture of him and Zoe, her arm around his shoulders, both grinning for the camera. Her hair was shorter, honey strands just beginning to brush her jaw, and her eyes were bright and her smile cheerful. Danny couldn't remember what it felt like to hold the expression that he had in that photo.
They had both been so happy.
Danny didn't even notice that he was clenching the glass in his hand, the water shaking. He didn't feel the cracks run along the sides of the glass, his attention only snapping back when a shard of broken glass clattered into the sink. He loosened his grip, letting the whole useless thing fall into the sink, the water draining, mixed with blood. Danny unleashed another stream of water from the tap to wash his hand, but he was hardly aware of that pain.
He cursed under his breath as he watched the blood bloom and wondered if he'd need stitches. He'd always been pretty hopeless about assessing the seriousness of a wound. He got beaten up pretty badly once and thought he might be dying, but only had cuts and bruises. Tom had smirked and Harry nodded curtly but Zoe made him a cup of tea and did the washing up for a week so that he could rest.
It was so easy with Zoe. She always knew exactly what to do.
Danny fumbled for some bandages in the cupboard beneath the sink, vaguely aware that she had assigned them to that position upon moving in. Tearing a strip of the material off with his teeth, Danny wound the bandage around his hand, looking at the clock. Still a few minutes past three. He knew that if he returned to bed he wouldn't be able to salvage a decent night's sleep.
Awake in the middle of the night, with not one person in the world to care. Everyone else was contently sleeping.
He reached for the photo, placing it face down on the coffee table. He tightened the tap. He watched a spot of blood seep through the bandage but didn't apply another.
Danny went back to bed but did not sleep well; not for many weeks after she had gone.