The bedroom is cool, wind blowing in through the slightly opened window, and it’s just dark enough that Tucker can pretend not to notice the fact that you’re facing away from him in the bed. It should just be a small thing, shouldn’t mean anything at all — but something about the atmosphere between you both the past few weeks tells him it’s not.

He’s almost scared that if you do turn around, you’ll be looking at him the same way you always do recently, like you’ve never seen him before in your life. Like he’s just a stranger you’ve invited into your home. You barely even know each other at this point. He feels like he’s looking in from the outside, watching two people fall out of love with each other in real time.

His hand slides into yours — not because he wants to feel your touch, but because it’s just routine at this point. He feels like if he doesn’t, everything will finally fall apart.

He used to try to prove that he loved you — with nights you both spent together just to push all your issues aside, with desperate kisses before you left in the morning, like he was scared you’d leave for the very last time if he didn’t love you hard enough — but now he can’t even make himself do that. He just tries to enjoy the few moments when everything feels like it used to, and he doesn’t have to hold on too tight just to keep you both afloat.

He remembers the days when you both laughed at the thought of your relationship turning into whatever this is. When you thought that you two were the exception, that you were above all that. And you were both naïve — or arrogant — enough to believe it.

The room suddenly feels a lot colder, and it has nothing to do with the temperature. He’s getting the sense if he let go of your hand for one second, it would be hard to tell if you were even there in the room with him. It doesn’t feel like you’re there. It feels like someone else he doesn’t know at all is there, lying in bed with him, pretending everything’s fine.

His grip loosens on your hand, and he almost does let go, like he thinks it would be easier if you weren’t there. He doesn’t, though. Not yet. In fact, he’s not sure he ever will. You know him too well, know every inch of his body like it’s yours. He can’t let go of that. So he’ll just keep ahold of you, and pretend that neither of you know you’re clinging onto a sinking ship.