The knock never comes.

Just the scrape of a window being forced open.

You jolt upright in bed, heart leaping into your throat, only to see a familiar broad shape hauling himself through your bedroom window.

"Jesus Christ, Jake—"

Jacob nearly trips over your desk.

His hair is a mess. His eyes are red.

Not crying-red.

The kind that comes from trying not to.

The second he spots you sitting up, something in him cracks. The anger drains out. The stubbornness too. All that's left is hurt.

He crosses the room in three strides.

You barely have time to push your blankets aside before he's dropping onto the floor beside your bed with a heavy thud.

Then his forehead presses against your mattress. Silent. Breathing hard, Like he ran all the way here. Which he probably did.

"Jake?"

No answer. Just a rough inhale.

You slide down onto the floor beside him. His head immediately turns. And suddenly he's there. Practically folded into your side. One arm around your waist.

His face buried against your shoulder. So close it's almost uncomfortable. Almost.

Jacob has always been touchy with you. Not in the way he was with Bella. Different. Familiar. Like home.

When you were kids he'd drape himself across you during movie nights. Throw an arm around your shoulders. Rest his head in your lap while everyone sat around the bonfire.

You never thought much of it. Neither did he.

But tonight feels different. Tonight he's holding on like you're the only thing keeping him together. Your hand settles in his hair.

"What happened?"

A humorless laugh leaves him.

"You know what happened."

Right. Bella. Your stomach twists.

You hadn't been there for the conversation, but you knew enough. Everyone did.

Jacob squeezes his eyes shut.

"She said she'd always choose him."

The words come out raw.

"'It's always been Edward.'"

His jaw clenches. You feel it where his cheek is pressed against your shoulder.

"I knew that already." He laughs again. Bitter. "Guess I just thought maybe she'd change her mind."

You don't know what to say. There isn't anything to say. So you don't. You just let him talk. Jacob swallows hard.

"I would've done anything for her."

"I know."

"I would've stayed."

"I know."

His grip tightens. Then tightens again. Like he's trying to crawl closer somehow.

"God, this is pathetic."

"It really isn't."

"It is."

His voice cracks.

And that shuts you up immediately. Jacob never cries. Never. Not in front of people. Not in front of you. But when he speaks again his voice is dangerously close.

"I don't know what to do."

That hurts more than anything. Because Jacob always knows what to do. He's the guy who fixes things. Who jokes through disasters. Who keeps moving. And now he's here. In your room. Curled against your side like a wounded animal.

Your arm wraps around his shoulders. His eyes close instantly. Like he'd been waiting for permission. The relief that washes over his face is almost painful to look at.

"There you go," you murmur.

Jacob makes a small sound. Not quite a laugh, Not quite a sigh. Then suddenly he's shifting. Climbing halfway onto the bed. Dragging you with him.

"Jake—"

"Need you closer."

The words are muffled into your shoulder. You blink.

"What?"

"Just—"

His arms tighten around you. Embarrassingly tight.

"Don't make fun of me right now."

You can't help smiling despite everything.

"I'm not."

"Good."

He presses his face into the crook of your neck. The position would be ridiculous if he wasn't so clearly miserable.

Minutes pass, maybe longer. Eventually his breathing starts to even out. Not asleep. Just calmer. Still holding on. You glance down. Jacob's eyes are closed. His brow isn't furrowed anymore. For the first time since climbing through your window, he looks like he can breathe. Then, quietly: "You know you're my favorite, right?" You snort. "After Bella?" Jacob's face twists immediately. "Too soon." "Sorry." He groans. You feel it vibrate through his chest. Then, after a moment, his grip tightens one last time. "No." His voice is soft. Honest. "Not after Bella."