Tender - Come Down When You're Ready -

"Then we'll stay quiet," Elias promised. "We’ll just sit on the porch and watch the cars go by until the sun comes up. No talking. Just breathing."

She didn't turn around, but her reflection in the glass softened. "It’s quiet up here. The ground feels too loud today."

A small, tired smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. She took a step away from the window, the spell of the heights finally breaking. She walked toward him, her movements fluid and slow, mirroring the tempo of the music. TENDER - Come Down When You're Ready

"The world isn't going anywhere," he murmured, his tone devoid of pressure. "But the coffee’s getting cold, and I think I saw a star break through the clouds over the East Side."

He was sitting on the edge of the bed, watching the dust motes dance in the amber glow of the bedside lamp. Across the room, she was a silhouette against the window, watching the city lights blur into streaks of gold and red. They had been in this state of suspended animation for hours—halfway between staying and leaving. "Then we'll stay quiet," Elias promised

"Okay," she whispered into the fabric of his jacket. "I'm coming down."

The album Come Down When You’re Ready spun on a small portable player they’d dragged from the car. The bass was a steady heartbeat, a tether to the physical world. Elias stood up, his joints protesting the stillness. He didn't approach her; he knew the boundaries of her orbit. Instead, he leaned against the wall, matching her gaze toward the horizon. Just breathing

She finally turned, her eyes reflecting the dim, moody light of the room. There was a vulnerability there that she only showed him—a transparency that felt both beautiful and fragile. She looked at his outstretched hand, then back at the sprawling, chaotic city below. "What if I'm not ready for the noise?" she asked.