The morning air nips at my skin, sharp enough to pull me fully into wakefulness as Jake and I pedal hard up the hill. It's the magical hour just before sunrise. The world is bathed in a soft, golden glow, as if holding its breath. Jake was always the most nostalgic one out of the four of us. He loved holding onto memories, and I didn't fault him for it. But holding onto the past is like clutching a handful of water—no matter how tightly you grip, it always slips through your fingers, leaving only a lingering coolness and the wet traces of what once was.

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Jake's relaxed profile, touched by the pink hues of the dawning sky. When he notices me looking, his grin widens, those familiar crinkles appearing by his eyes—his real smile. It's such a small thing, but right now, it's everything.

We reach the cliff just in time. I drop my bike on the soft grass and rush to the edge. The view takes my breath away: the ocean stretches out, a vast expanse of shimmering gold.

Jake settles beside me, his knee lightly brushing against mine. We sit in silence, the kind that's as comfortable and familiar as an old favorite song, filling the space between us without needing words.

After a moment, Jake's voice breaks the calm, gentle yet tentative. "You know you can talk to me, right? About your dad. About anything." His tone is soft but there's an earnestness to it, probing the waters of my grief.

I swallow hard, feeling the heaviness of his words. The grief and guilt are always there, lurking in the shadows like persistent fog, refusing to be chased away by the rising sun. Jake shifts closer, his shoulder pressing against mine, his presence a steady warmth.

"I'm here," he murmurs. "Whether you talk or not, I'm here."

His words settle deep in my chest, warming yet breaking me all at once. I tear at the blades of grass, not daring to meet his eyes—searching for the cracks I tirelessly try to seal. You don't tell people you're not okay because it's too hard to watch them struggle with what to do. You’ll find yourself comforting them, even though you're the one who needs comfort.

Jake exhales a slow, deliberate breath. I feel his gaze, steady and earnest, as if he could make me believe simply through the force of his will. "You don't have to pretend with me, Nor."

I keep my eyes fixed on the ground. Looking at him would probably break me. My fingers clench around the grass, its sharp scent rising in the cool morning air. Sadness starts to well up again, swelling in my chest, thickening my throat until I can barely breathe.