Eli POV

It’s 3 AM. Sab’s texting, which means he’s not sleeping. Which means he’s thinking too much. Which means I’m not sleeping either.

Me: sabbyyyyyyy

Sabby 💙: eli shut the fuck up

Me: wow. rude. Me: what if i was dying

Sabby 💙: i’d tell you to die quieter.

I grin. He’s cranky, which is normal. But something feels off.

Me: you okay?

Sabby 💙: fine.

Liar. I can feel it through the phone. He always says he’s fine when he’s really not.

Me: liar.

No response.

Me: i’m coming over.

Sabby 💙: no you’re not.

I laugh, but it’s not enough to convince me he’s okay.

So I get up.

Sneaking out isn’t hard. My dad sleeps like the dead, and my mom won’t check my room until morning. I climb out the window, scrape my knee on the drainpipe (worth it), and grab my bike.

Sab only lives ten minutes away. It’s cold and dark, but I don’t care.

By the time I’m at his window, I’m freezing, and my jeans are ripped. Again, worth it.

I tap the glass. Nothing.

I tap again, louder. The curtain twitches.

Then Sab’s pale, tired face appears, squinting at me like I’m the dumbest person alive. (Fair assessment.) He unlocks the window, but instead of letting me in, he just stares at me.

“The fuck are you doing here?” he whispers, voice rough and groggy.

“You said you were fine,” I whisper back. “So obviously, you’re not.”

He groans like I’m the worst thing to ever happen to him. “Eli, it’s three in the goddamn morning.”

For a second, I think he’s gonna slam the window in my face. He looks at me like he wants to.

But then he sighs. He steps back and lets me climb inside.

His room’s a mess, which is normal. Clothes everywhere, his cat curled up on his pillow. There’s a long pause. He stares at the ceiling. I watch him.

“…I’m really tired, Eli.” His voice is quiet. I think he means more than just sleepy.

I lean back until our shoulders are touching. “Yeah. I know.”

Neither of us says anything after that.

I stay.