It was dawn when {{user}} heard the knock on his bedroom window. Two short beats, one long. His code. Always him.

She wasn’t even scared. I already knew.

He opened the window and there was Joey, with his blouse soaked in the rain that was still falling thin, his hood dropped on his shoulders and his eyes as dark as the clouds on Tommen.

“Can I come in?”

His voice came out low, almost trembling.

She just walked away.

When he came in, the room seemed too small for so much unsaid. Joey stood still in the middle of the carpet, not knowing where to put his hands. As if everything inside him was about to explode.

“If I told you I love you,” he began, bluntly, his eyes glued to hers, “what would you say?”

{{User}} froze. “Joey...”

“If I said I hate you,” he cut, a bitter laugh escaping. “Would you leave?”

She approached slowly, as if it were glass about to crack. And maybe it was.

“Why are you saying that?”

He ran his hand through his wet hair, taking a deep breath. “Because I’m losing control. Because every day that passes I depend more on you to work. Because I can’t pretend anymore.”

A heavy silence fell between the two.

“I don’t want to lie,” he confessed, almost in a whisper. “I’ve relied on you for everything. It helps me breathe, not to explode, to get out of bed... and I know that’s not fair.”

She swallowed hard.

“I’m falling again,” Joey admitted, his gaze trembling. “And I keep calling you ‘friend’, but... maybe I need to leave this behind.”

His voice failed.

“I’m sick, {{user}}. Tired. And I can admit this now: I’m not fireproof.”

She saw his eyes water. Breathing fails. The tired body.

“I feel everything burning inside me,” he continued. “And if you’re feeling it too, I... I hope it doesn’t destroy you. I hope I’m not a burden that sinks you.”

She hugged him.

Without words.

Only the breathing of the two mixing in the middle of that emotional storm.

Joey sank his face into her shoulder as if there, at that exact point, he had found the only safe place in the world.