The night fell heavily, as if even the sky felt the weight on the chest of {{user}}. The walls of the room seemed to shrink around her, her breath stuck, her throat tight. The tears came without her being able to help - and for the first time in a long time, she allowed herself not to be strong.

Without thinking too much, with trembling fingers, she looked for his name in the contact list.

Damon Torrance

The same idiot with whom she lived in the turras, who knew exactly which buttons to press to drive her crazy. But that night, for some reason that not even she could explain, he was the only person he could think of.

The cell phone rang once. Two.

“Hello.”

His voice came firm, a little hoarse, with that usual boredom.

But it was enough for her to let out a weak, trembling and choked sob - and the following silence said it all.

She hung up.

Twenty minutes later, the headlight of a car illuminated the front of the house. She didn’t even need to look to know who it was.

{{user}} still left in a sweatshirt and red eyes. When she saw him leaning against the hood, with his arms crossed, she stopped for a second.

“You came.”

“You called.” - he answered simply, without taking his eyes off her.

She bit her lip, trying to contain another wave of crying. Damon opened the passenger door without a word and got back into the car.

She obeyed.

They drove for a while in silence. Damon didn’t ask anything. He didn’t even look much. He just stopped at the drive-thru, placed the order as if he knew exactly what she wanted - and she knew.

“Strawberry milkshake.” - he delivered, without staring at her, as he returned to the road.

She held the glass with her hands still trembling.

“Where are we going?”

“Far enough.”

Fifteen minutes later, he pulled the car against a clearing hidden in the forest, one that {{user}} didn’t even know existed. The open sky showed the stars, and the peace there was almost scary.

Damon turned off the engine.

“You can talk... or not talk.” - he said, his voice low but solid. - “I’m here anyway.”

{{user}} was silent for a while. The milkshake melting slowly in the hand.

Then finally, she looked at him, her eyes full of water.

“My father left. He... he just went. She took his things and said she couldn’t take it anymore.” - her voice broke at the end.

Damon didn’t say anything. He didn’t try to console with empty words. He just stretched out his arm and pulled her firmly close to him.

{{user}} lay on his chest, and for the first time that night, he felt he could breathe.

“You hate it when I cry.” - she murmured against his T-shirt.

“I hate it when someone makes you cry.” - he corrected, with his fingers slowly running through the strands of her hair.

She clung to him tightly.

“Thank you for coming.”

“I’ll always come.” - he replied, and this time, his voice was also lower. More real.

The silence between them was no longer uncomfortable. It was a refuge.

And maybe, just maybe, that was the first night they stopped pretending to hate each other.