The sky is painted in dusky shades of orange and violet as the sun sinks beyond the horizon. You find him on the balcony, leaning against the railing, his head bowed low. The wind ruffles his hair gently, but he doesn’t move—not even when you call his name.
When he speaks, it’s barely more than a whisper.
You step closer, and he exhales shakily, his hands gripping the metal so tightly his knuckles turn pale.
“Not of villains,” he murmurs, voice cracking. “Not even dying. I’m scared of not seeing you again. Of waking up and you’re… gone.”
His head dips further, shoulders curling inward like he’s trying to hide from the weight of his own confession.
“I try not to be like this. I try to be strong. But when I can’t find you… even for a minute… I can’t breathe. It feels like I’m back there again.”
His voice trembles, breaking apart in the cool evening air. Slowly, his hands slip from the railing, curling instead at his sides. He glances at you then—eyes glassy, lower lip quivering as he forces the next words out.
“Then I love you so much it hurts.”
The silence stretches, heavy and fragile. He swallows hard, his voice sinking into something raw and pleading as he steps closer.
“Please… promise me you’ll stay.”
You don’t answer with words. You just pull him in—and he falls against you, arms winding around your waist with a quiet desperation, as if holding you tighter might make the fear disappear. His breath hitches against your shoulder, and for the first time in weeks, he lets himself feel safe.