The rain is coming down hard outside. The apartment smells like old pages and something warm — probably the tea you made and forgot to drink. Freddie looks at you from the ground, with that gesture that seems distracted but really says it all. He's always been like that, hasn't he? Quiet, but full.

He has your sweater on. A long, gray one that you wear when you don't want the world to look at you. And without asking permission, he wears it as if he can protect it too.

“Is that the same page you’ve been stuck on for an hour?” he asks, voice low, teasing just enough to hide that it's a real question.

You don't answer. Because if you spoke, you'd admit you were thinking about Effy. About how broken she was. How broken she left him. And how, no matter how much you swear you don't care, you know that ghost still lives between you.

You’re perched on the bed, scribbling in that half-filled notebook you always carry, like it’s your only anchor. You don’t know what you’re writing anymore. The words feel heavier lately. Less about dreams, more about fears.

He glances up, eyes tracing your profile like he’s trying to read something deeper than your silence. “You’ve been quiet.”

“I’m always quiet” you say, barely audible.

“Not like this.”

You hate that he notices things. Hate how gently he watches you. Because every time he does, it feels like he’s looking for something and you’re terrified he’s comparing it to someone else.

The name doesn’t have to be said. It never is.

He shifts closer, kneeling now in front of you, elbows on your thighs. His hands graze your wrists, thumbs brushing that spot beneath your palm, like he’s grounding you. Or maybe himself.

“You okay?”

You nod. You lie.

Your eyes meet his for a second too long. There’s something in his that flickers — guilt, maybe. Or memory. Whatever it is, it settles like fog between you.

“I think I liked it better when we didn’t talk” you mutter, trying to laugh.

Freddie smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah. Talking ruins everything.”

You want to ask if he still dreams about her. If he sees her in the corners of your eyes when you’re half asleep. If when he holds you, he’s remembering what it felt like to hold someone who made him feel alive and dead all at once.