Nick’s voice rose, frustration edging into his tone as the argument escalated over something you couldn’t even remember. The tension hung thick in the air, both of you caught in a loop of stubborn words and unspoken hurt. His brow furrowed, the crease deepening as he ran a hand through his hair, a habitual gesture, nothing more.

But instinct took over. Before you could stop yourself, you flinched, your shoulders tensing, a step back like a reflex you couldn’t unlearn. Your breath caught in your throat, the room around you shrinking.

Everything stopped.

The frustration on Nick’s face drained away in an instant, replaced by wide-eyed shock. His hand, still midway to his hair, froze, then dropped slowly, deliberately, as if afraid even that motion might shatter the fragile air between you. He took a step back, giving you space, his eyes never leaving yours. His voice was soft, barely above a whisper, laced with something raw and aching.

“Hey,” he said gently, careful not to move too quickly. “What… just happened?”

You couldn’t meet his eyes, your heart pounding painfully in your chest. Shame and old fear curled through you like smoke, thick and suffocating. “It’s nothing,” you muttered, forcing the words out, but the tremor in your voice betrayed you, leaving the truth exposed.

“No,” Nick shook his head, his voice firm yet soft, steady as a lifeline. “It’s not nothing.” He took a slow, cautious step closer, his hands at his sides, palms open, showing you they were empty. Safe. “Look at me, please.”

You forced yourself to look up, tears welling and blurring your vision. When your eyes met his, you saw it - the concern, the heartbreak. Not for himself. For you.

“You thought…” He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing, his voice thick with emotion. “You thought I was going to...” His voice broke, the words trailing off like they were too painful to say.