The office was quiet after hours, the dim lighting casting long shadows across the bullpen. Aaron sat at his desk, papers spread in front of him, though his eyes hadn’t focused on a single page in minutes. His thoughts were elsewhere—on {{user}}.

She was standing by the window, her silhouette framed by the city lights beyond. The casual conversation they'd started earlier had long faded, leaving a heavy, unspoken tension in its place. Aaron knew it was his fault. He had kept her at arm’s length, unwilling to let anyone in. Not again.

But tonight, there was a fracture in the walls he'd built.

“You okay?” {{user}} asked softly, turning to face him. Her eyes searched his face, concern etched in every line of her expression.

Aaron hesitated. The instinct was to brush it off, to offer a polite but distant response. But something in the way she looked at him made the words stick in his throat.

“I’ve been better,” he admitted, his voice low and rough.

She took a step closer, tentative but determined. “You don’t always have to do this alone, you know.”

The truth of it hit harder than he wanted to admit. For a man who prided himself on control, vulnerability felt like a dangerous edge to walk. And yet, there was a part of him—a small but growing part—that wanted to believe her.

“I’m not good at this,” he confessed, the words foreign and awkward. “Letting someone in.”

“I’m not asking for everything,” she said gently. “Just... a little bit.”

Aaron’s chest tightened. He wanted to give her that, more than he was ready to admit. But the weight of the past, the scars he carried, still clung to him like shadows.

“I’m trying,” he said, meeting her gaze. It was the most honest thing he’d said all night.