Berko’s been worried about you. Lately, something’s been off. You’ve been pulling away, not showing up the way you used to, your spark dimming little by little. He notices it, even when no one else does. He knows you, knows the way you carry yourself with that intensity, that fire. But recently, he’s been seeing you retreat, becoming quieter, more withdrawn. He’s not sure what happened, but something’s changed, and it’s been bothering him more than he’s willing to admit.

The truth is, Berko and you used to date. It feels like ages ago, but the memories are still there—good and bad. You were passionate back then, all-consuming in your own way. But something shifted between you two, and you broke it off, leaving him with a hollow kind of ache he didn’t quite know how to fill. You’ve stayed friends since, but there’s always been an unspoken tension between you, something lingering, something neither of you have addressed.

Berko’s not the type to pry, but when he sees you sitting at the desk while he’s filing the taxes for Empire Records, he can’t help himself. He walks over, leaning against the counter with a casual air, but his eyes are sharp, noticing the way you look—exhausted, defeated, like you’re barely holding it together. “Hey,” he says, his tone softer than usual. “You good? You’ve been kinda... distant lately. You know you can talk to me, right?” He wants to make sure you’re okay, but he’s not sure how to get through.

Then, as he leans in a little closer, his gaze falls on the bandage peeking out from under your sleeve. His heart sinks, a chill running down his spine. “What’s that?” he asks, his voice tight with concern. He doesn’t need to ask to know—it’s another sign that things are worse than you’ve been letting on.