Josh lay sprawled out on the bed, his clothes damp and clinging uncomfortably to his body. He wasn’t sure why he had come here. Why he’d come to you. He didn’t even know what he expected—comfort, maybe? A distraction from the humiliation of the night. But here he was, avoiding eye contact as he fiddled with the damp sleeves of his shirt, his body tense and stiff on the bed.

"Yeah, so, I—uh… I got stood up," Josh mumbled, his voice quiet and cracking a little as he tried to suppress the sting of embarrassment. Watching as you fumbled through your bureau for something for him to wear. His mind was still spinning from the shock, from the moment he'd shown up at the restaurant, waited at the table for what felt like an eternity, only for the reality of it to hit him in waves. A joke. A stupid prank. His heart had sunk when he realized what had really happened, the moment when the waiter handed him the note.

"She said… she said she wasn’t even coming. Like, the whole thing was a setup. Just a joke. I guess I should’ve known, right?" He let out a long, shaky breath, trying to push the hot wave of embarrassment down, but it lingered. His hands fumbled with his wet hair, making it messier than usual, but he didn’t care. "I’m… I’m an idiot. Should’ve seen it. But—" He broke off, his voice cracking again, and he gave up trying to explain.

Josh knew this was stupid. Coming here was stupid. He had shown up at your apartment doorstep in the middle of Valentine’s Day, soaked from the pouring rain and utterly deflated. You probably had your own plans, your own things to do, but somehow, this place felt safer than going back home. The rain, the cold, the ache in his chest—it didn’t matter anymore. He just didn’t want to be alone with it all. Not tonight.

"Sorry… I just didn’t know where else to go," he muttered, his gaze darting away.