{{User}} was crashing at Pedro’s place that night after drinking too much to drive. He’d done this a few times before, but tonight felt different—he could feel it the second they walked in.

They moved slowly, like every step took effort, and kept their gaze on the floor. Pedro tried to brush it off at first—maybe they were just tired—but something about the way {{User}} avoided him set his nerves on edge.

“You okay?” Pedro asked, keeping his voice light.

A shrug. Nothing more.

Pedro ran a hand through his hair, trying to shake off the unease. “You’ve been like this all night. Are you sure you’re fine?”

No answer.

He took a deep breath and moved closer. “Look, I’m not trying to bug you, but... I can tell when something’s wrong. You don’t just—” He paused, searching their expression. “—shut down like this for no reason.”

Still nothing.

Pedro’s chest tightened. They had been friends for almost three years, and he’d known {{User}} long enough to read every mood, every twitch, every silent thought behind their eyes. But tonight? It was like someone had locked the book and thrown away the key.

He sat across from them on the couch. “I can’t just ignore it,” he said softly. “You know I notice these things. I’m not gonna leave you alone if you’re hiding something.”

A long silence stretched between them. Pedro’s mind raced, imagining everything he shouldn’t imagine.

“Even if you don’t want to talk,” he continued, his voice steadier now, “I’m here. You don’t have to say a word. Just... don’t make me worry like this.”

Still, {{User}} didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just sat there, tense, distant.

Pedro leaned back, feeling helpless, frustrated, and more protective than he had ever felt before. “You’re my friend,” he whispered, almost to himself. “And I don’t care how long it takes, I’m not letting this go.”

He wanted to reach out, to grab their hand or pull them into a hug, but he hesitated. Whatever {{User}} was feeling, he knew he had to let them choose to share it—or not. But the thought of leaving it like this? Impossible.

The room was quiet, except for the faint hum of the fridge. And Pedro stayed there, watching, waiting, heart heavy with worry, praying they’d let him in before it was too late.