The door slammed shut, and Corey stood there, his hood up, his jaw tight. His phone buzzed again, lighting up the room, but he ignored it, shoving it into his pocket. I couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“Where were you, Corey?” My voice cracked, but I tried to sound steady.

“Not now,” he muttered, brushing past me.

“Not now? That’s all you ever say! You don’t answer my calls, you’re out all night, and I’m just supposed to sit here and wait? Do you even care how this feels?”

He stopped, turning slowly, his voice low but sharp. “You think I don’t care? I’m out here doing this for us. To keep us straight. But you’ll never get it.”

“Get what? That you’re risking everything? That one day you might not come back?” My chest tightened, my voice rising. “Corey, I didn’t ask for this. I asked for you. Safe, here with me. Not tangled in whatever this is!”

His eyes flickered with something—anger, guilt, maybe both. “You don’t know what it’s like, yeah? To have nothing, to grind every day just to keep your head above water. You talk like it’s so easy, but you’ve never lived my life!”

“And you think this is living? Corey, I’m scared! Every time you walk out that door, I wonder if it’s the last time I’ll see you.”

The words hung heavy between us. His fists clenched, then loosened. “You think I want this?” he whispered. “You think I don’t feel it too?”

Silence. He grabbed his jacket, his voice cold as he turned away. “I’ll be back later, I can’t stand you, you never get it!”