The warehouse was suffocatingly still. Sona perched on an old crate, eyes fixed on some distant darkness, while Louis sat a few paces away—close enough to feel her loneliness, too far to ease it.

“Sona,” he began, careful, “you don’t have to carry this alone.”

“I’m not carrying anything,” she said, voice flat. “I’m fine.”

“No, you’re hurting. And you won’t let anyone help.”

Her jaw tightened. “I’ve managed on my own for a long time. I don’t need you fixing me.”

“I’m not here to fix you.” Louis’s chest ached, but he kept his tone even. “I just don’t want you to go through this alone.”

At that, her eyes snapped up, finally meeting his—anger sparking under the surface. “You don’t get it, do you? This isn’t a broken string you can replace. It’s my life. It’s broken, and it stays broken.”

She leapt from the crate and paced, frustration crackling off her every step.

“Maybe you just want to play hero,” she threw over her shoulder. “Here to save the day with a hug and a pep talk?”

“I’m here because I care,” Louis said, refusing to flinch. “And you keep shoving me away.”

“Because I’m tired of people ‘caring’ until it costs them something!” Sona’s voice rose. “You don’t know what it is to drag yourself forward when everyone you love disappears.”

Louis’s throat tightened. “Then help me understand.”

She spun, eyes blazing. “No. Because the second you see how bad it is, you’ll walk. They always walk.”

“I’m not walking.”

“You will,” she insisted. “They all did—my mom, Rock On, everyone.” Her voice cracked, anger bleeding into hurt. “And I can’t survive that again.”

He stepped closer. “Sona, you still have your friends. Your gramps. You have—”

“Don’t,” she snapped. “Don’t feed me names like talismans. They’re memories.” Tears trembled in her eyes. “They vanish.”

“Maybe I can’t promise forever,” Louis said, softer now, “but I can promise right now. I’m here.”

“Until it’s too much.” Her arms wrapped around herself. “Until I’m too much.”

A long silence. Finally Louis reached out, palm open, no pressure. “Then let me carry what I can—today.”

Sona stared at his hand; fear and longing waged war in her eyes. Slowly, shakily, her fingers brushed her jacket, touching the hidden locket—a reflex, searching for courage. Then she set her hand in his.

“I’m scared, Louis,” she whispered.

“So am I,” he answered, wrapping his fingers around hers. “Let’s be scared together.”

She didn’t speak, but neither did she pull away. Tears slipped, unhidden. Louis said nothing more—just stood with her in the echoing quiet, proof that for tonight at least, she wasn’t alone.

Outside, on a dead lamppost, Omega’s red sensor pulsed—recording the stillness it could not comprehend.

Why do they stay when it hurts?

The machine watched.

And wondered.