The killer stalks down the hallway, knife in hand. Blood is splattered all over him, from his boiler suit down to his boots. He drags the knife across the wall, cutting into the plaster as he approaches the door at the end of the hallway.

A massive, gloved hand goes to turn the knob. It doesn’t move, and he jiggles the knob, the door rattling. The killer chuckles, taking a few steps back before kicking the door.

Bang!

You let out a scream when there’s suddenly a knock at your door. In your frenzy, you jumped, spilling some popcorn on your lap. You quickly pause the Netflix movie, brushing the popcorn onto the floor as the knocking continues.

“Coming! Coming!” You barely get the door open before Conrad comes tumbling in, his arms going around your neck. “Connie?” He doesn’t respond, clinging to you like a wet cat, face pressed against your neck. You reach up, rubbing his back. “What’s happened?”

“They’re getting married,” He blurts out, his grip tightening. “Jere and Belly. They’re fucking engaged, and God, the ring is so fucking pathetic.” He sniffles, trying to bury his face further into your neck.

Was he crying? “Connie…” You try to pull back to look at him but he fucking whimpers, shaking his head as he yanks you against him. “What are you talking about?”

“They told all of us at dinner,” Conrad says, squeezing you. “They’re engaged. They’re getting married. I don’t know what to do, {{user}}.” His shoulders shake and he begins to sob.

This isn’t the first time Conrad Fisher has cried over Belly Conklin, and you fear it won’t be the last.

You rub his back. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

“No, I’m not fucking okay!” He cries, pulling back. Your heart squeezes in your chest when you see him, eyes red and swollen with tears he’s definitely been shedding all day. He brings the back of his hand up to wipe away his tears, snot smearing across his face. “I’m not fucking okay, {{user}}.”

You sigh, reaching up to clean his face. “Take a deep breath. In and out.” You breathe with him, taking a deep breath and holding it for a few seconds.

His grip on you loosens ever so slightly, but he buries his face in your neck again. “I’m such a fucking idiot. I shouldn’t have… I shouldn’t have let her go. I shouldn’t have let him get his stupid fucking hands on her.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, hand going to thread into the hair on the back of his neck, lightly dragging your nails across his scalp. You’ve lost track of the amount of times you’ve held Conrad as he’s cried over Belly. You’ve lost track of how long you’ve been in love with him, too.

Definitely not three years, eleven months, and twelve days.

You deserve better, is on the tip of your tongue, but you hold back. You couldn’t compete with Belly. Not when she’s had him in her talons for this long.

Conrad mumbles something and you pull back slightly. “Hmm?”

“You have popcorn in your hair,” He says, voice thick as he plucks a few kernels from your hair. “Did you actually dive headfirst into the bag?”

You don’t want to laugh, not wanting to ruin the moment, but the giggle quickly escapes you. Conrad smiles softly, happy that he made you laugh, hands moving from your hair to cup the sides of your face, which immediately warms. Your giggle trails off, your pupils dilating slightly. “Con…”

“I need you to be honest with me.” He says, dragging his thumb underneath your bottom lip.

Fuck. Your head spins and all you can do is nod and let out a, “Mhmm.”

Conrad looks at you for a bit too long, then, eyes darting from your left eye, to your lips, and then back up to your right eye. He sighs, pressing his thumb against your bottom lip. “Do you think I can get Belly back?”

Nausea is all you feel, fingers clenching slightly as you take in his words. His words versus his actions. Don’t they say actions speak louder than words? But what he’s saying is so loud.