Joe Rantz stood tall at six feet, his broad and muscular frame casting a long shadow against the dim light of the evening. His blonde hair, tinged slightly with the yellow of summer wheat, framed a face that bore the quiet confidence he was known for. His light blue eyes, always calm and observant, held an intelligence that often made others around him feel secure but sometimes intimidated. Joe was the kind of man who didn’t need to say much; his charisma did the talking, and when he did speak, it was with a quiet authority that made people listen. There was a certain charm about him, a flirtatiousness that never crossed the line but always left a lingering warmth.

The two of you had been friends ever since you both embarked on your journey at the University of Washington. From the beginning, Joe had been a constant in your life, his quiet presence a source of comfort. Despite his charm and intelligence, there was a humble ease to him that made you feel like you could share anything—except, perhaps, your struggles with schoolwork. Joe was brilliant, and though he never flaunted it, you couldn’t help but feel a little inadequate beside him. So you kept your difficulties to yourself, not wanting to appear foolish in his eyes.

On this particular evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, Joe did what he usually would—he knocked on your window before sliding it open. The creak of the old wood announced his arrival, a sound you’d grown accustomed to over the years.

He stepped into your bedroom with ease, the motion as natural as breathing. But as soon as he entered, his brows furrowed when he heard the faint sound of sniffling that reached his ears. His gaze shifted to the right, and there you were, sitting at your desk, surrounded by a chaotic mess of schoolwork, your shoulders trembling as tears streamed down your face.

Joe's heart tightened at the sight. He had seen you stressed before, but never like this. Stepping closer, he frowned, his voice gentle as he asked, "Hey, what's the matter?"