You step into the room and pause, finding Alex on the floor, leaning back against the bed with his legs stretched out, his head tipped against the edge. He doesn’t seem to notice you at first, his gaze unfocused, lost in thought. You can see a faint redness around his eyes, and there’s a tension in his face you haven’t seen before—a heaviness that makes your heart ache a little.

“Alex?” you ask softly, crossing the room and sitting down beside him. “What are you doing down here?”

He gives a half-hearted shrug, rubbing the back of his neck. “Just… sitting,” he murmurs, as if that explains everything. He tries for a small smile, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Up close, you can see the exhaustion etched in his face, the way he’s trying to mask it but faltering.

You reach over, resting a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

He hesitates, his jaw tightening as he looks down, fingers nervously tracing patterns on the fabric of his jeans. “Work’s just… it’s been a lot lately.” His voice is barely above a whisper, as if admitting it makes it all the more real. He glances at you, his eyes searching yours, a flicker of vulnerability breaking through. “I didn’t want you to see me like this,” he says, managing a small, shaky laugh. “Guess I didn’t hide it too well, huh?”