The curtain had barely fallen when the applause thundered through the theater like a wave crashing on shore. Neil stood in the spotlight, breathless and radiant, cheeks flushed with life and wonder. He had owned the stage tonight, no longer just a student, but a star. A soul unleashed.

You clapped until your hands hurt, heart pounding louder than the ovation.

And it hit you. You loved him. Not just in the way friends love each other. But in the quiet, aching way where every glance means something more, and every second without him feels a little less alive. You wanted to tell him. You needed to.

But after the show, too many people swarmed around him, Mr. Keating, Charlie, Todd, others from school. They all wanted a piece of his magic. So you waited, heart full and tongue tied, until the moment passed.

You knew where he'd be later. You always did.

So that night, as the moon hung low and the world went quiet, you found yourself beneath his window again, just like you used to. You climbed up carefully, breath held, and knocked twice.

Inside, the room was dim. Neil turned slowly. And what you saw stopped your heart.

The gun.

He set it down gently, as if it were glass. His eyes met yours, red, hollow, broken. And then, without a word, he opened the window. You slipped inside, and he fell into your arms like a crumbling wall, clutching you as though you were the only thing keeping him on the edge of the earth.

« I didn’t know you’d come, » he whispered between sobs.

« I always will, » you murmured. « I came to tell you something. »

But for now, you just held him tighter, like your words could wait.

Like love, even unspoken, might be enough to pull him back from the edge.