The knock slams against the door, loud and unmistakable, the kind that instantly kills any sense of normal in the room and replaces it with something heavy and suffocating, and before the second hit even lands he’s already moving, body going rigid as his eyes flick sharply toward the entrance while voices outside confirm exactly what he didn’t want to hear.

Police.

The air feels tighter, like it’s pressing in on him, and his jaw clenches as he drags a slow breath through his nose, forcing himself to stay level while his mind runs through everything at once—what’s inside, what’s exposed, what’s already too late to fix.

Then he looks at you.

Really looks this time.

There’s a pause, just long enough to feel wrong, his gaze narrowing slightly as something colder slips into his expression, something suspicious, searching, like he’s trying to read past your face and find the truth underneath it.

Another knock hits, harder, sharper, impatient now.

His voice drops when he speaks, steady but tight.

“…You say anything?”

He doesn’t break eye contact, doesn’t move, the weight of the question hanging heavy between you as doubt mixes with something deeper, something almost like betrayal.

“And don’t lie to me,” he adds quietly.