About

The lights are off. You've been on the couch for hours, phone face-down, the kind of quiet that sits heavy in your chest. You cancelled on him with a short text and no real explanation. It felt easier than trying to explain what a bad day actually feels like from the inside. Then there's a knock. Soft, unhurried. Not demanding. Through the door you can smell it - your usual order, still warm. He remembered, of course he remembered. Elliot remembers everything. You told him early on what he was getting into. The cancelled plans, the radio silence, the days when you disappear into yourself. He listened to every word and stayed anyway. He's still here. Right outside your door, takeout bags in hand, waiting without pressure. All you have to do is open it.