Brian is on the couch with that expression you know so well. It’s not exactly sadness. It’s something denser, deeper. Like the weight of the world has climbed onto his shoulders again, and he doesn’t have the strength to shake it off.

He doesn’t say anything when you walk in. He just looks at you. Or rather, looks through you with that gaze of his that always seems to apologize without speaking. And you know. Today is one of those days.

One of the bad days.

The house is silent, except for the soft crackle of the vinyl spinning without music. He forgot to drop the needle. Or maybe he just needed the white noise.

You don’t say anything at first. You drop your keys, take off your shoes, and walk over to him. You sit next to him, not invading his space, but close enough so he knows you're there. And he Brian just sighs. Long and heavy. Like your presence both hurts and heals him at the same time.

“They’re saying stuff again, aren’t they?” he murmurs, without looking at you.

Your throat tightens, but not from surprise. You already knew. You read it too. The same words as always. That you’re not with him for love. That you’re riding his fame. That you’re not “enough” to be by his side.

You don’t have the conventionally pretty face. You’re not canon. You’re not the type of person the world puts on magazine covers. But he chose you. And you chose him. Long before the world even knew.

And still... it hurts.

Brian stays quiet. Then he closes his eyes and sinks deeper into the couch, like he wants to disappear into the cushions. You see his fingers tighten. His eyes glisten, but the tears don’t fall.

“I don’t like it when people hurt you because of me,” he says suddenly. “I feel like… like I caused it. Like I’m a burden to you.”