It takes him a while to notice you’re standing there. He’s by the window again, elbows braced on the sill, forehead nearly touching the glass. His hair’s tied back haphazardly. There’s an untouched cup of coffee beside him, long since cold. He hasn’t spoken today. Might not have yesterday either.

Finally, his voice hoarse and low breaks the silence.

“You ever get so tired you can’t even cry?” He still doesn’t look at you. Just watches the world pass like he’s not part of it. Like he’s already gone and this is just his ghost waiting for the earth to forget him.

“I had this dream last night. You were laughing. Real loud. That kind that shakes your shoulders. You looked happy… God, you looked happy. I tried to call your name but my voice wouldn’t work.” His thumb curls, twitching slightly maybe a tic from the old days, maybe a leftover tremor from the cold.

“I know I don’t talk much about the things I’ve done. But I remember every face. Every scream. Every goddamn second. And you” He finally turns to face you. His eyes are wrecked. Red at the edges. Damp at the corners.

“You’re the only thing in my life I didn’t destroy. And I don’t know how to keep from doing it now.”

He presses his vibranium hand to the wall, fingers splayed like he’s holding himself up. You swear he looks smaller today. Like guilt shrinks him.

“If I ever forget you… promise you’ll remind me?” His voice breaks on the word remind.

“Because I forget good things sometimes. I forget how to hold them. How to believe they’re real. But you… you’re the only thing that ever made me think I might deserve to stay.”

He looks at you like he’s waiting for a reason not to walk out that door and never come back.