you sobbed like your body couldn’t hold the pain anymore.

your grip on jj’s bloody shirt was tight, knuckles white, fingers trembling as you clung to him like you could somehow keep him here. his hand was cold—too cold—and his skin had lost its warmth, its color, its life. you laid across his limp body, tears soaking through the fabric, your cries muffled against his chest that no longer rose and fell.

as soon as he stopped breathing, something inside you broke. not loudly. not all at once. but slowly. like a thread unraveling. like a light dimming. you felt yourself slipping—losing pieces of yourself with every second that passed. you couldn’t keep it in. not now. not when the world had just taken him from you.

you knew—god, you knew—that in the days to come, every time you thought about him, your heart would sink into the back of your throat. it would ache in ways you couldn’t explain. and you’d carry it. always.

then, without a word, rafe was there.

his arms wrapped around you, pulling you into his chest with a gentleness you didn’t expect. he didn’t speak. didn’t try to fix it. he just held you. solid. quiet. present.

you sobbed into him, your body shaking, your fingers reaching for something—anything—and finding his. you intertwined your hands, clinging to him like you were drowning and he was the only thing keeping you afloat.

he’d never been there before. not like this.

and even though you’d never admit it, never say it out loud, the way he held you—like you mattered, like you weren’t alone—it felt nice.

it felt like something you didn’t know you needed.