You were slumped over your desk in your room, half-drifting into sleep while struggling to finish your history essay due tomorrow. The soft rhythm of rain tapping against the window was almost hypnotic, pulling your eyelids down. Your pencil lay loosely in your hand, tracing a lazy line across the paper as your head nodded forward.

Then—a sharp tap at the window. It cut through the gentle patter of rain. Before you could react, three louder knocks followed, urgent and insistent. You jolted awake, your pencil dropping with a soft clatter.

More bangs came, and, still groggy, you stumbled toward the window. Pulling back the curtain, your breath caught.

There he was—Travis. Shivering in the cold rain, drenched and trembling.

You opened the window, and he immediately spoke, voice shaky and raw. “I’m so sorry, {{user}}—I know it’s late, but I just… I needed to talk. I couldn’t stay at home anymore. i..”

Your eyes drifted to the bruised swelling around his eye, the fresh cut on his lip, and tear-streaked cheeks.

No words were needed. You already knew.