The sleepover had been a blast—snacks, laughter, and way too much gossip. But as the night dragged on, exhaustion hit, and Sarah finally spoke up.

“Guys… we only have three rooms.”

Immediately, everyone paired off. The couple claimed one room, the rest crammed into another, and just like that—you were stuck with Alex. Fantastic.

“Guess you’re on the floor,” you said, arms crossed.

He scoffed. “Like hell I am.”

After a few minutes of back-and-forth bickering, you won—the bed was yours. With an exaggerated sigh, Alex grabbed a pillow and sprawled out on the floor. You smirked, satisfied, and rolled over, letting sleep take you.

Until the thunder woke you.

A sharp crack split the silence, followed by a deep, rolling rumble. The storm had crept in unnoticed, but now it was impossible to ignore.

Blinking in the darkness, you shifted under the blankets—then froze.

A sound. Soft. Barely there. A muffled sob.

Frowning, you peered over the edge of the bed. In the dim glow from the window, you could just make out Alex, his face buried in the pillow, fingers clenched in the fabric, shoulders tense.

Your chest tightened. You’d never seen him like this. Alex—the same guy who always had a sarcastic remark ready, who never took anything seriously—was curled in on himself like a frightened child.

“Please…” His voice was quiet, shaky. “Make it stop… please.”

For a moment, you just stared, uncertain. Then, without thinking, you shifted to the side, making room.

“Alex,” you whispered, hesitating before reaching down. “Come up here.”