Nate stood outside {{user}}’s house for almost a full minute before knocking. His jaw was tight, teeth grinding like he was holding back something sharp. His phone was still in his hand—screen dark, unread messages left unsent. He could’ve texted. He always did. A joke, a half-hearted “you busy?” Anything to soften the blow.

But tonight, he didn’t trust himself not to fall apart through a screen.

So he knocked instead. When the door opened, warm light spilling out into the cold night, {{user}} was there in soft clothes and bare feet, hair loose like she hadn’t expected company. The second her eyes landed on him, her expression changed—not panic, not surprise— just quiet understanding.

She didn’t ask why he was there. Didn’t tease him for showing up unannounced. She just stepped aside and let him in, like she’d already decided he belonged in that space.

The door closed behind him with a gentle click that felt louder than it should’ve. Inside, everything smelled like clean laundry and vanilla candles. Safe. Too safe. Nate shrugged off his jacket and dropped it on the chair like his body was running on autopilot, then sank onto the couch with a heaviness that didn’t match his frame.

{{user}} hovered for a moment before sitting beside him. Not touching yet. Just close.

His knee bounced uncontrollably, fingers digging into his palms. He stared straight ahead, eyes unfocused, like if he looked at her too long he’d crack.