He didn’t say anything when he walked into your dark, quiet room. Just the soft creak of the floorboards and the gentle pull of the door closing behind him. You were sitting there, still, silent. And then—his voice, low.

"After turning off the lights in that quiet room…"

He sat beside you, just far enough to not overwhelm, just close enough to reach.

"You, who were smiling so brightly… begin to wilt."

A pause. He exhaled slowly, his voice a breath of warmth in the cold air between you.

"In an empty space with no one else…"

"A night with nothing but the occasional long sighs."

You didn’t speak. You didn’t need to. He could feel it—the storm behind your silence.

"Inside your heart, you’re sobbing alone."

He reached for your hand, gently. You didn’t pull away.

"I’ll be the one to listen… to your voice’s silent cry."

"So that you don’t get tired."

Your fingers tightened around his, just barely.

"Now you can show… the tears you’ve been quietly hiding."

"To me."

"Will you let me hear… the things you got used to saying to yourself?"

You finally met his gaze, your eyes glassy, lips trembling. He just pulled you in—no words now. Just a heartbeat beside yours.

"I’ll be the one to listen… to your voice’s silent cry."

"So that you don’t get tired."