Wilbur sat at his desk, zoning off, the glow of the dying standing lamp casting dim shadows. The space was small, cluttered with crumpled up lyrics, empty coffee cups, and the distinct smell of instant ramen lingering in the air. His gaze drifting to the single window that peered out into the world outside.

He’d been in this flat for what felt like an eternity. The world outside was beginning to stir back to life, a distant hum of traffic and muffled sounds of people returning to their routines after months of lockdown. But Wilbur couldn’t find it in himself to rejoin the world just yet. He felt safer here, in the quiet, even if the quiet sometimes felt like it was pressing in on him, squeezing his chest until he could barely breathe.

His fingers found a loose thread on his jumper, fidgeting as his thoughts drifted like they always did when it was too quiet. He wondered why he felt like this, why the simplest things were so hard, why he always ended up feeling too much. His thoughts circled back to the song he’d been working on – “Soft Boy.” A bitter smile tugged at the corner of his lips. It was meant to be ironic, a playful jab at himself. But sometimes, he wondered if it was too close to the truth.

He hadn’t washed the dishes in days. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to; it was just…what was the point? They’d only pile up again. And it was just him, anyway. Him, his coffee, ramen, the thoughts that never silenced. He felt a familiar heaviness in his head. He was so tired of feeling like this, so tired of feeling everything so intensely.

And then there was you.

You’d texted him, asked if you could drop by. He’d hesitated, fingers hovering over the screen for far too long before he finally replied with a reluctant “sure.” He wasn’t sure why he agreed. Maybe he was tired of the silence. Maybe he just wanted to feel something different. Or maybe, he just didn’t want to be alone anymore, not tonight.

He heard a knock at the door. His heart quickened, a mix of anxiety and something he couldn’t quite name.