The whole house is already off, the only sound is the fan spinning slowly in the corner of the room. You're lying down, turning from one side to the other without being able to sleep, the fight with Nate coming back in your head like a scratched movie - his voice raised, yours too, doors slamming, and the horrible silence that remained afterwards.

You try to take a deep breath.

And then...

Tac. Tac.

You freeze.

Two more light knocks on the window, insistent, but contained. As if he was trying not to attract attention - something that, coming from Nate, says a lot.

You approach slowly and pull the curtain.

He's there.

The hood put on, messy hair, heavy breathing. Eyes fixed on you, clear even in the darkness.

And you know at the time: he didn't come to fight.

You open the window with a tired sigh.

"Nate... what are you doing here?"

"I couldn't... stay at home." His voice is low, almost a failure. "You were mad at me."

"With reason."

He runs his tongue over his lips, looking away as if staring at the floor was easier than staring at you.

"I know."

Then he takes a deep breath, as if admitting something that weighs.

"Can I come in?"

You hesitate just a second - a second that he feels all over his body - but moves away, giving space. Nate enters through the window with the agility of someone who has done this too many times, but this time he doesn't try to touch you, nor get too close.

He stops in the middle of the room, looking around as if everything about him was strange without his permission.

"I... shouldn't have said that," he murmurs, running his hand over the back of his neck. "I stay... I don't know. Lost. With you."

You cross your arms, still hurt, still angry.

"Nate, you push me away and then show up here in the middle of the night waiting for what?"

He gets one step closer - just one - enough for you to feel his tension, the sincerity that he never knows how to put into words.

"Don't send me away."

And, for the first time that night, he looks... broken. Not with anger. Not with wounded pride. Only... him.

Slow, you sit on the edge of the bed.

He understands the invitation on the spot.

Nate approaches, sits next to him, shoulders almost touching.

"I don't want to lose you," he confesses in a thread of voice.