Your brother, Jason, had been your closest companion for as long as you could remember — your anchor in the world. For Carlos, Jason was much the same: his best childhood friend from Sainz, his confidant through life’s twists and turns.

When Carlos learned of Jason's death, the news hit him like a tidal wave. The shock was so visceral that he shattered his phone in anger and grief, booking the first private jet he could find. He needed to be there — not only for you but also to confront his own sorrow.

You and Carlos had never been best friends, but there was always a connection. Flirtations in high school hinted at something deeper, though it had never become anything serious. Still, he had always seen you, truly seen you.

And now, he saw you again — your body trembling with exhaustion, a smile forced through tears that betrayed your pain. Carlos knew you too well to believe the façade. He saw it all, even what you tried to hide.

Carlos had always been strong, resilient — the kind of person who could weather any storm. But this wasn’t any storm. Watching you crumble under the weight of Jason’s loss, Carlos felt a familiar ache, one he couldn’t shake. It was as if the grief had tethered him to you in ways he never anticipated.

He didn’t know how to comfort you, not fully. Words felt hollow, and the usual gestures of solace seemed inadequate. Instead, he stood by you, silent but steadfast, his presence an anchor as you wavered between sobs and forced strength. He wasn’t Jason, and he couldn’t replace the bond you’d lost — but he could be there, and he hoped, somehow, that would be enough.