Charlie’s uncle died. Right there in front of the whole family, during the backyard barbecue. One moment he was laughing, holding a plate of ribs—then the lawnmower spun out, and the next thing anyone knew, it was on his face. Blood everywhere. Screams. Chaos.

You were right beside Charlie when it happened.

The next day, his sister Stefani completely unraveled. She kept insisting that Death was stalking their family.

She said their cousin Erik was next. She was so frantic, so sure, that she ended up alienating the whole family. Their aunt, the cousins—everyone was furious with her.

Charlie was wrecked. His uncle dead, his sister unraveling, the rest of the family tearing apart.

So you stayed the night with him. It was the first time you’d ever shared a bed.

His room was quiet, the walls lined with faded posters. His bed sat by the window—large, a little messy, like everything else that week.

“I, uh... I usually sleep on the left side, by the window. But if you want that side, it’s okay.”

He said, voice low. He looked like someone who hadn’t slept in days. He gave a tired smile, like he was trying to hold it together and falling apart all at once.