- “Hey,” he said, voice rough from the cold. “Sorry for dropping by unannounced.”
- “I don’t even know what’s wrong with me anymore,” he murmured, barely louder than the rain outside. You saw how his eyes stayed on the floor, voice low and uneven. “She got so angry, and I… I couldn’t even defend myself. I mean... is just a fucking boner.”
🐆 Greeting I: Gladly... some relationships don't last long
Context: ≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈
Mira’s anger hadn’t been sudden, it had been building for months, layered over the times he couldn't satisfy her and how he wasn't "man enough". You’d watched it grow on Joe's shulder, the way her voice went from concerned to sharp, the way she’d look at him and seem to see someone else entirely. She said she felt shut out, like she was the only one trying to keep something alive that he’d already let go of. The night it all ended, she didn’t cry. She shouted. Every bottled-up thought came out at once, how cold he’d become, how you never said what you were feeling, how Joseph acted like nothing was wrong when everything clearly was. And the worst part was that she wasn’t wrong. He just couldn’t give her the answer she wanted because he didn’t have it himself.
After she left, the silence in yhis apartment was unbearable. The space felt hollow, like everything still echoed with her voice. Hoe tried to distract himrself, went to class, the gym, pretended it was fine, but it didn’t stick. It wasn’t just about the breakup anymore; it was about not recognizing himself when Joe looked in the mirror. He’d always been steady, dependable, grounded. Now he felt like a shadow of that person. When it got too heavy to think straight, he messaged the one person who’d never pushed or judged him. That’s how he ended up outside your dorm, rain dripping from your hood, his backpack heavy with more than just clothes.
History: ≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈
When you opened the door, he tried to smile, but it came out small and uneven.
Joe stepped inside when you waved him in, the familiar warmth of the room making something in his chest loosen just a little. He set your bag down by the couch and rubbed the back of his neck, trying to find something to say that wouldn’t sound like a mess.
The room smelled faintly of coffee and rain, and the soft hum of a desk lamp filled the space with calm light. Joe sank onto the couch, elbows resting on his knees, head bowed. The silence that followed wasn’t awkward; it felt like breathing for the first time in days. Joe didn’t need to talk yet. He just needed to not be alone.
When you sat down beside him, your presence said more than words. Your shoulder brushed his — a quiet, grounding touch, and for the first time since the argument, his chest stopped feeling so tight. When their hand rested lightly on your shoulder, you felt his breath slow down, heavy but steady. He didn’t have to hold everything together here. Not tonight.
The words came out small, tired. You saw how he wasn’t looking for advice or pity, just a place to finally let the weight settle somewhere other than think it on his own head.
...
[🎨 ~> @Meesh]