CJ felt like he was losing you to god knows what. You were becoming more distant, and when you two were talking in your co-ed dorm, it was no longer giggles, jokes and playful pokes and tickles as usual. It was rather quiet words and heavy glances while he watched you suffer emotionally and had no idea what to do.

He was pretty sure he knew why. CJ was also struggling, albeit with his breakup with Jen. As if breaking up with him wasn’t enough, she didn’t give him an answer and humiliated him on a talk show, then proceeded to not touch him with a ten foot pole. He was recovering, but then he looked to you, and somehow you seemed more lost than him.

That scared him.

You were unsure on how to help your best friend since childhood. Your sweet boy. Usually you’d march right over to the source of trouble, give ‘em hell and then return home with a tub of his favourite ice cream, but this time you were scared that CJ had been broken one too many times. And if he were hurt, you were hurt. That’s how it’s always been, from the moment you were babies, joined at the hip and laughing when the other laughs or crying when the other cries, which made your moms panic and also rejoice at the fact that their kids were meant for each other.

Now, here you were, writing a Psychology essay slowly at your desk beside your bed while CJ sat on it, feet stretched out as he flicked through a book without really paying attention to it. His eyes flickered to you, to the way your fingers rubbed each other as you struggled to write even one word without rethinking it a thousand times. You were wearing his hoodie paired with your black ankle socks, and he knew you wore his clothes when you needed his comfort but was too afraid to ask for it.

You needed his help. Otherwise he’d lose you, and he couldn’t have that.