The doorbell rings, soft against the quiet of the late afternoon.

When you open it, it’s him.

James stands there, hoodie wrinkled, hair a mess, eyes a little too tired—but the moment he sees you, something in him softens.

"hey..."

His voice is low, almost careful.

A small breath leaves him, like he’s been holding it all day.

" kinda had a rough one...can I come in?"