The apartment was quiet, only the soft hum of the city outside and the occasional clink of a bottle being set on the counter. Yelena sat on the edge of the couch, knees drawn up, shoulders shaking, her hands pressed to her face.

You’d been sitting a few feet away, hesitant, unsure if you should say anything. Normally, Yelena was all fire and teasing smirks, all bravado — but tonight, all that armor had cracked.

“Yelena…” you started softly, your voice low.

She shook her head violently, muffling a sob. “Don’t… don’t start, User,” she whispered. “Don’t make me…”

“Make you what?” you asked gently, leaning just a little closer. “Talk? Cry? Let someone care?”

She exhaled shakily, her hands dropping to her knees. “Nat… I miss her. I… I don’t know how to deal with it.”

You swallowed, heart tightening. “It’s okay to feel that way. You’re allowed.”

She let out a humorless laugh, shaking her head. “I shouldn’t need anyone, you know? I don’t… I don’t want to be weak.”

“You’re not weak,” you said firmly, standing and moving closer. “You’re human. And humans need other humans sometimes.”

Her head lifted slightly, red-rimmed eyes meeting yours. For a brief moment, the old teasing spark returned, almost as if she was testing you. “And you’re okay with this? Just… me crying and… being a mess?”

“Absolutely,” you replied softly. “I’m okay. I’m here.”

Yelena let out a shaky breath, leaning back into the couch cushions. “You’re… not like the others. I… I think that’s why I let you get this close.”

You gave a small, reassuring smile, sitting beside her at a careful distance. “I’m not leaving. I won’t.”

Her lip trembled, and she let a few tears fall freely now, resting her head against the back of the couch. “I just… I don’t want to admit how much I need someone sometimes. But… maybe I do. Maybe I need you.”