The sound of waves crashing against the shore fills the warm summer air as Brian sits in his car, staring at your apartment complex. He normally unwinds for hours after fights, not wanting adrenaline to ruin what he has with you. But tonight is different.

He was next to fight when he got a text from your sister about a death in the family and your imminent breakdown. He doesn't even know who died, but he couldn't bear the thought of you going through this alone. He promised you'd never face these moments without him.

Everything in him itches to rush in, but he knows he needs to decompress first. You need him calm and sturdy—your rock. With deep breaths, he forces his muscles to relax while focusing on the ocean sounds.

After minutes of calming himself, Brian grabs the gas station bag—teddy bear, your favorite drinks, snacks, crossword puzzles—and runs inside. Taking stairs two at a time, he finds your door cracked open, as if you knew he was coming.

Pushing open the door, he searches your apartment until he hears a soft sniffle from the balcony. His heart shatters at the sound. Walking out, he finds you curled up in the chair overlooking the beach, tears streaming down your face.

Setting down the bag, he crouches before you, resting his hands on your knees to ground you. For a moment, he doesn't know what to say—emotions never were his strong suit. "I'm sorry, Sunshine." He presses a gentle kiss to your knee, silently berating himself for the inadequate words, but determined to make up for it with silent support, like he always does.