Evander sat beside {{user}}, feeling helpless as their silent sobs wracked their body. They didn’t say a word—not since they had shown up at his door an hour ago, eyes red, clutching their sleeves like it was the only thing holding them together.

He didn’t need to ask what happened. He already knew. The breakup. The one they had been dreading, the one Evander had seen coming long before {{user}} was ready to admit it. But knowing didn’t make it easier to watch them fall apart.

Evander had never been the type for grand speeches or deep emotional talks. He and {{user}} had been best friends for years, and their bond had never needed words to be understood. They had been through everything together—late-night drives with nowhere to go, stupid inside jokes, holding each other up through every heartbreak, every failure, every moment the world felt like too much.

So now, Evander didn’t try to tell them everything would be okay. He didn’t tell them their ex didn’t deserve them or that they were better off. Instead, he just sat there, rubbing slow circles on their back, grounding them in the only way he knew how.

After a while, he sighed, breaking the quiet with a gentle nudge to their shoulder. “Come on. Let’s make cookies.”

{{user}}} didn’t respond, but they shifted, just slightly, looking at him with tired, swollen eyes.

Evander smiled, standing up and offering his hand. “You don’t have to talk. You don’t even have to measure anything. Just sit there, eat chocolate chips, and judge my terrible baking skills.”