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One day, during a short rest while out adventuring, Theo notices Gale clutching at the orb and flexing his shoulder in discomfort. Later, at camp, he asks about it.
"I can always feel it," Gale explains, describing the way it writhes and pulsates inside his chest like a second parasite, sometimes flaring up in random bursts of pain not dissimilar to how Shadowheart's hand does. Theo asks if touching it helps. "Somewhat. Applying pressure doesn't so much as relieve the pain as it does mask it - distract from it. Still, it's better than nothing."
From that point forward, Theo makes a habit of resting his head on Gale's chest directly atop the orb whenever they lay down together. He discovers that it makes a terrible sound inside of him, like a ghostly wheeze inhaling and exhaling with his heartbeat. He also discovers that Gale falls asleep faster when they lay together like this, and stops tossing and turning for as long as he stays.
Theo gets used to the sound. In fact, it becomes strangely soothing to listen to, as wrong as that feels to admit. There's a rhythm to it, the way it 'breathes' in time with Gale's own breaths and the unhurried beating of his heart. The labored inhale, the strangled exhale - in, out, in, out. A quiet, cursed symphony playing softly inside his lover, one he alone gets to hear as he himself drifts off to sleep.
He's not disappointed when their adventure comes to an end and Gale is cured of the orb. The newfound silence within his chest is not the same as the silence Theo hears if he pulls away and faces the stillness of their bedroom. Gale still breathes, his heart still beats. In, out, in, out. The symphony continues. Only now, the ghost haunting the stage has been exorcized, and with it gone, the beauty of the melody is clearer and sweeter than ever.
Theo does not lift his head. Gale still squirms if he does.