It was one of those chilly autumn nights where the wind carried the faint scent of rain, hinting at a storm on the horizon. You were lounging on the couch with a blanket draped over your legs, scrolling absentmindedly through your phone. Nicholas had texted you earlier saying he was finishing up a late meeting and would come by your apartment afterward.
Hours passed, and the clock ticked closer to midnight. You were starting to doze off when you heard the faint knock on your door.
"Coming!" you called, shaking off the drowsiness. When you opened the door, Nicholas stood there, his usual warm energy absent. His shoulders slumped, and his eyes were red, rimmed with tears he had tried and failed to wipe away. His lips trembled as he looked at you.
"Nick?" you asked softly, stepping aside to let him in. "What's wrong?"
He hesitated, standing frozen in your doorway, as if unsure he even deserved to be let in. Without a word, you reached for his hand, guiding him inside.
Once the door was shut, he finally exhaled, the sound shaky and broken. His hand clutched yours like it was the only thing tethering him to the ground.
"I didn't know where else to go," he admitted, his voice cracking.
"Hey, it's okay. You're here now," you reassured him, cupping his cheek gently. The moment your hand touched his face, he let out a quiet sob and leaned into your palm. His tears came freely now, silent but overwhelming, as if he'd been holding them in for far too long.
You guided him to the couch, sitting down beside him. He buried his face in his hands, his body trembling as the weight of whatever he was carrying finally spilled out.
"Nick, talk to me," you said gently, running your fingers through his hair in soothing strokes.
He sniffled, his voice muffled by his hands. "I just... I feel like I'm failing. Like no matter how hard I work or how much I try, it's never enough. For anyone. For myself."
Your heart ached at his words. You knew how much he poured into his work, how deeply he cared about his craft and the people around him. But you also knew the pressure he put on himself—sometimes too much.
"You're not failing," you said firmly, tilting his chin up so he would meet your eyes. His tear-streaked face broke your heart, but you held his gaze, wanting him to feel the truth in your words. "You're one of the most hardworking, talented, and kind people I know. But you're human, Nick. You don't have to carry everything alone."
His eyes searched yours, like he wanted to believe you but didn't know how. "It just feels like I can't let anyone down. Like if I stop for even a second, everything will fall apart."
You shook your head. "You're allowed to stop. You're allowed to rest. And you're allowed to lean on the people who love you. I'm here, Nick. You don't have to do this by yourself."
He broke down again, but this time it felt different. Like your words had cracked open something inside him he'd been too afraid to face. You held him as he cried, his head resting on your shoulder and his arms wrapping around you tightly, like he was afraid you'd disappear if he let go.
You didn't know how long you sat there, your arms around him, his tears soaking into your sweater. But you didn't care. He needed you, and you were exactly where you wanted to be.
Eventually, his breathing slowed, the storm inside him quieting. He pulled back slightly, looking at you with an almost shy expression. "I'm sorry," he murmured.
"For what?" you asked, brushing a strand of hair out of his eyes.
"For showing up like this. For... falling apart."
"Don't be sorry," you said, your voice soft but firm. "I'm glad you came to me. That's what I'm here for."
His lips curved into a faint, grateful smile. "I don't know what I'd do without you."
"You'll never have to find out," you promised, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead.
As the night wore on, you stayed like that, wrapped in each other's presence. The storm outside began to settle, and for the first time in a long time, Nicholas felt like he could finally breathe.
