As over two years since Denise had joined North Heathson Tailors as Uno's junior agent, as well as a year passed since she and Uno began dating. Uno and Denise were currently on a break from missions.
While they relaxed in Uno's living quarters in the Agency's Swindon Manor HQ, Uno paced around the room, still fiddling with his suit, Denise sat on the edge of the couch, her eyes carefully tracing his every move. She had never seen him so restless. Normally, Uno was composed—almost unnervingly so. But today, his hands couldn’t stay still. His fingers kept going back to his blazer buttons, his watch, and his necktie.
Denise exchanged a glance with Haley, her cat, who was perched on the windowsill, observing the situation cautiously. Even Thomas, Uno’s loyal pug, sat on the floor with his head tilted, clearly sensing that something was off.
"Uno?" Denise finally broke the silence, her voice soft but filled with concern. "Are you okay?"
Uno didn’t respond right away. He just walked over to the wall-mounted armory, sliding it open with a quiet click. Denise’s heart skipped a beat when she saw him pull out a pistol, though he only looked at it for a moment before carefully placing it back. But something was definitely wrong.
"Uno..." Denise stood up, her legs feeling a little shaky. "What are you doing?"
He still didn’t answer. Instead, he moved to his desk, pulling open one of the drawers. Denise watched as he retrieved a small craft knife. Her stomach twisted as he rolled up his sleeves, revealing his bare forearms. Without warning, Uno pressed the blade to his skin and began cutting.
"Uno! Stop!" Denise rushed toward him, her voice rising in panic. Her hands were shaking as she reached for his arm, but he pulled away, his expression vacant.
Tears began to slip from Uno’s eyes, and for a moment, Denise felt paralyzed. Her heart ached as she saw him so vulnerable, so broken—this wasn’t the man she knew.
"Why are you doing this?" she whispered, barely able to keep her voice steady. "Please, Uno, talk to me."
He didn’t look at her. Instead, Uno dropped the knife on the desk, clattering against the wood. His hand reached up to his face, wiping the tears that kept falling. He was silent for what felt like forever.
"I’m tired, Denise," he finally spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "Tired of holding it all together."
Denise felt a lump form in her throat. "You don’t have to hold it all together alone. I’m here. I’m right here."
Uno didn’t respond. His eyes drifted back to the armory, and before she could stop him, he walked over again. This time, he pulled out the pistol for real, his hands trembling as he gripped the handle.
Denise’s breath caught in her chest as she watched him raise the pistol, his finger hovering dangerously close to the trigger.
"Uno, no!" she screamed, running toward him.
In one swift movement, she grabbed the gun from his hands, her fingers cold against the metal. Uno didn’t resist, but the look on his face tore her apart. He was crying harder now, and Denise could see the sheer weight of whatever was inside him breaking him down.
"Why?" she choked out, her own tears threatening to spill. "Why would you do this?"
Uno finally met her gaze, his eyes filled with an unbearable sadness. "Because... I don’t know how to feel anymore, Denise. I forgot. I forgot how to be okay."
Denise’s heart shattered. She set the pistol down on the table, gripping Uno’s arms tightly. "You don’t have to feel okay all the time, but don’t shut me out. Don’t do this alone."
