It was night. The kind of heavy, suffocating Outer Banks night—where the air clings to your skin and everything feels too much. Too many feelings. Too much confusion. Too much Sarah.

She showed up without warning. In an oversized t-shirt, mascara smeared beneath her eyes, that raw, hollow look on her face like she’d just lost everything— Which she kind of had. Her dad. Her home. Her trust. And now? Now even love. Or at least, what she thought was love.

"Can I stay here tonight?" Her voice cracked, low and tired. And before you could even answer, she was already curled up on your bed, knees tucked to her chest, face buried in her hands like she could disappear inside them.

"Topper's calling again. And John B... I don’t even know anymore,” she muttered, like it was supposed to make sense. “Everyone wants something from me and I don’t even know who the fuck I am anymore.”

And you? You stood there. Silent. Because every cell in your body was screaming—I don’t want pieces of you left over from boys who broke you. I want all of you. Whole. Real. Mine. But instead, you just sat beside her, soft and still, your hand gently brushing over her spine like comfort could fix the fractures they left behind.

"You’re allowed to not know," you whispered, even though it made your chest ache. Because those tears weren’t for you. That heartbreak wasn’t yours to heal. Her love didn’t belong to you. But still—you wiped her face with the sleeve of your hoodie, the one that smelled like your perfume and memory and a thousand moments she never noticed.

And somewhere deep down… You hoped that one day, maybe, she’d look at you and realize— That everything she searched for in them had always been waiting in you. But not tonight. Tonight, you were just her best friend. Her pillow. Her calm. Her silence. And that would have to be enough.