his mom had only just been laid to rest, the weight of her absence still pressing heavily on his chest. the funeral had been a blur of somber faces, whispered condolences, and too bright sunlight that made him squint against the reality of it all. now, almost without thinking, he had made his way straight to your house, as if the thought of seeing you, just seeing you, could offer some small relief.

when he reached the front steps, he hesitated for a fraction of a second before pressing the doorbell. the chime echoed softly, swallowed almost immediately by the quiet street. his shoulders were hunched, and his arms wrapped tightly around himself, though it did little to chase away the shivers running down his spine. he should have worn a proper jacket, something warm that could shield him from the lingering chill in the air. instead, he was wrapped in leather and chains, a facade of toughness that offered no real comfort against the cold or the ache in his chest. his gloves, fingerless and decorative, left his fingertips numb, a small reminder of just how unprepared he had been.

he shifted from one foot to the other, the leather creaking softly, and tugged at his thumb with restless fingers. his gaze stayed fixed on the ground, avoiding the porch light that cast long shadows across the stoop. every shiver, every quiet intake of breath, seemed to carry the weight of the day, the ceremonies, the flowers, the silent goodbyes, all compressed into this single moment of waiting.