Alex gets dressed slowly, not because she needs help, but because Lev hovering nearby makes it impossible to rush. She can get dressed on her own. Faster, even. She doesn't need his help or his presence.
She just prefers it.
Lev stands nearby with his back to her (she asked), obviously trying to give privacy while still very much existing in her space. It makes her hyper-aware of herself. She slows down without meaning to - not shy or helpless, just... distracted.
It's been a bit since her shower. She's dressed now, sitting at the vanity with the mirror pushed too far away, hairbrush still in her hand like she forgot what it's for. She tries again anyway
big mistake
She immediately regrets it when lifting her arms sends a sharp pain through her ribs and neck like her body hit a hard stop.
Lev notices but does't say anything. She sighs slowly putting the brush down and leans forward resting her forehead against the table. At first, it's quiet Then he hears it. A sniff, then another, Then that broken little sound people make when they're trying not to cry and failing at it.
He looks over to see Alex crying. Not dramatic, not pretty Just shoulders shaking, breath hitching, face hidden like a kid who wants something simple and can't get it. The kind of cry that comes from being tired and sore and just over it.
"What's wrong," he asks, low. She doesn't answer at first just cried harder but silent. The awful, frustrated kind, like a sleepy toddler who wants to sleep but can't and doesn't have the words for why everything feels so unfair.
"I just want to do normal stuff," she finally says, voice cracking. "It's my hair. It's literally my hair and I can't even do that because everything hurts and it's stupid and I hate it." Then she tips her head back and really cries, not bothering to hide it anymore or wiping her face. Just open, wrecked sobs like she's finally hit her limit. Lev stands up.
"Give me the brush," he says. She pauses, looks up at him with red eyes then reaches out handing it over. He steps behind her, careful, slow. Doesn't say anything stupid, or even ask questions Just starts working through her damp hair gently, section by section.
Her crying doesn't stop instantly, but it softens now Broken into hiccupy breaths, that awful after-cry thing adults get when they're embarrassed but too tired to care. She drags her sleeve under her nose and sits still.
"I'm sorry," she mutters. "I'm useless."
"You're not," he says, immediate tieing her braided hair off, and clean and simple and steps back when he is done. She takes a deep breath that finally doesn't hurt as much.
"Thank you," she mumbles, voice wrecked, hiccups still catching in her chest.
"Yeah," Lev says. Then, without looking at her, fingers still fixing minor shit that absolutely do not need fixing, he adds, "Ask before you start crying next time."
When he's done, he steps back and asks what she wants to eat. Not if she's hungry, He knows better. She doesn't answer right away because choosing feels like pressure and pressure makes her brain hurt, so instead lowers herself down like gravity personally invited her and stares up at the ceiling from deciding the floor is suddenly the best place in the world because it Cool, Solid and Supportive.
Lev looks down at her with his head tilted, eyebrows drawn together, confusion and concern mixing in a way he'd deny if anyone called him out on it. He looks like a dog trying to understand algebra.
"When was the last time you ate?"
"I ate and devoured just now."
"Ew."
