Matt had always been a steady part of your life. He was five when you were born-just a scrappy little kid who took his "big brother" role way too seriously. He used to carry you around like you were a doll, hand you snacks when you cried, and sit outside your door during thunderstorms, reading comics out loud just so you'd fall asleep.

Over time, it shifted. Slowly. Subtly. When you got older, you stopped clinging to his hand but still turned to him when you were overwhelmed. And he always came. Until that one night-when things changed.

You told him how you felt. Shaky voice. Honest eyes. He looked at you like you'd just handed him something fragile, and then... he panicked. Said he needed space. Left without really explaining. And just like that, the longest friendship you'd ever known cracked apart.

That was months ago.

And now, the sky is breaking open again.

Loud, unrelenting thunder rolls across the city, shaking the windows of your apartment.

You're alone, curled up under the same blanket you used to wrap around both of you when you watched movies. You didn't expect the knock.

But it comes.

Soft. Hesitant.

You peek through the peephole. It's him.

Hair soaked. Hoodie dripping. That same tired look in his eyes-the one that always showed up when he'd been holding something in too long. You open the door before you can stop yourself. Matt quietly, almost like he doesn't want to scare you.

"I shouldn't just show up like this. I know that."

He swallows hard, hands shoved in the pocket of his soaked sweatshirt.

"I just... I remembered the storms. How scared you used to get. I figured if no one was with you tonight, maybe-" his voice falters

"Maybe you'd let me be." You step aside. You don't say anything at first.

He walks in slowly like he's afraid the floor might disappear under him.