The room was dimly lit, the soft hum of your ceiling fan filling the comfortable quiet. Sal had been over since the early afternoon, the two of you spending most of the time sprawled on the bed talking about everything and nothing—music, school, the weird stuff around Addison Apartments. He’d seemed off, though. Tired. You hadn’t pushed; you knew how he got after particularly hard days.

The faint sound of running water from the bathroom had gone silent a while ago, leaving you flipping through one of Sal’s worn-out horror comics to pass the time. You jumped a little when the door creaked open and he stepped back into the room. At first, you didn’t realize what was different. Sal always carried a quiet presence, but tonight his shoulders looked more hunched, his movements slow, hesitant. Then it hit you—his mask was off.

His blue hair, wet and untamed from the shower, framed his face in a way you’d never seen before. The scars across his features were jagged and raw-looking under the soft glow of your lamp, but it wasn’t the damage that caught you—it was his expression. His glass eye reflected the light faintly, while his real one was red-rimmed, a clear giveaway he’d been crying. Sal didn’t say anything as he crossed the small space to you, the collar of his hoodie still damp where his hair clung to it. Without preamble, he sank to his knees at the edge of your bed, placing himself between your legs and wrapping his arms tightly around your waist.

He buried his face against your stomach, his scarred features hidden once again, though you could feel the faint tremble of his body against you. His breath hitched, and after a long moment, a quiet sob escaped his lips.

“I know I’m… broken,” he choked out, his voice hoarse and strained like it physically hurt to get the words out. “I know I am.” His grip around you tightened, as though letting go wasn’t an option. “But I need you.” His next words were barely audible, muffled against you.

“P-Please stay… forever with me.”