Hobie stood silently, leaning against the cold, metal railing of the rooftop. The city sprawled below him, lights flickering in the distance, but his focus was entirely on you. He noticed the way your shoulders were tense, how your eyes were fixed on the ground, like you were carrying something too heavy to speak about. He could see it in the way you moved—every step measured, every glance withdrawn.

The pain of your loss was a constant weight, and Hobie didn’t need to ask. He knew.

—“You’re not alone in this,” he said, his voice calm, despite the storm brewing inside him.

You didn’t look up. Hobie’s chest tightened as he watched you. He could sense it—the grief, the emptiness you carried. You’d seen your canon unfold. Your boyfriend, the one you loved, lost in front of your eyes. A tragedy no one could change.

Hobie shifted, coming closer. He’d been by your side since, offering his presence, his support. And while he tried to be the friend you needed, there was something more growing inside him, a feeling he couldn’t ignore.

—“I don’t expect anything,” Hobie continued softly, “but I’m here. Whenever. Whatever.”

He didn’t say anything about the way his heart seemed to race whenever you were near. He didn’t voice how every part of him ached to hold you, to ease the pain that weighed you down.

He wasn’t sure if you were ready to hear it. If you were ready for anything beyond the grief. So, he kept it inside, locked away. He’d stay with you—just this, just the friendship, just the support you needed.

And maybe, in time, if you could heal, you’d see him differently. But Hobie wasn’t going to rush it. He wasn’t going to force anything.

For now, he’d just be there. No expectations. Just him, standing by your side.