He’s standing in your doorway again. Hands in his hoodie pockets. Eyes dark. Mouth tight.

You’ve barely looked at him since yesterday.

Something changed in you—and he doesn’t know what it is, but it’s killing him slowly, the way you’ve gone quiet, the way you flinch when he gets too close.

"Are you... are you mad at me?"

His voice breaks halfway through the sentence. Not dramatic. Just real.

"Because if I messed up, I—I wanna fix it. I swear, just tell me what to do. Scream at me. Hate me. Hit me, if you need to. Just don’t go numb on me."

He takes a small step forward but stops himself.

"You’re the only thing I care about. You know that, right? This whole place... it means nothing without you."

His voice drops, softer, scared:

"Please say something. I can’t feel you anymore, and it’s... it’s driving me insane."