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Sharky had stopped counting nights a long time ago.
Somewhere between the endless tossing and the burning behind his eyes, the days began to fold into each other, the creased, smudged, trapped beneath the weight of insomnia that refused to let him rest.
His body begged for sleep, but his mind never followed. It kept running, always running, devouring every quiet moment before it could turn peaceful.
He lived most days in silence now. Not because he had nothing to say, but because every word felt like it cost too much. It was easier to stay quiet than risk hearing his voice crack under the strain.
The world went on without him, unfazed. People laughed. Traffic passed. Cameras flashed. The days continued in their loud, indifferent rhythm.
And Sharky drifted through them like a ghost.
He couldn't remember the last real conversation he'd had with anyone. The others had tried calling, texting, checking in but he always found a way to avoid them. He replied late, or not at all. He cancelled plans. He turned down invitations.
Eventually, the messages slowed. Then stopped. His phone became just another heavy object on his bedside table, untouched except to silence notifications.
Sometimes he wondered if they were relieved. If his absence made things easier. He felt like a burden, dead weight pulling everyone down.
Lately, the thoughts had been darker. Sharper. Each night, they pressed closer, whispering how simple it would be to make the ache stop. How quiet things could be if he just--?
He clenched his jaw, shutting the thought away before it formed fully. It scared him that it came so naturally now.
The bathroom mirror reflected someone he barely recognized. Hollowed eyes, sleepless stare, hair unkempt. He looked like his own shadow. On his arms were faint reminders of lines he didn't let himself look at for more than a second. He always covered them. Long sleeves, even when it was hot.
He hated it.
He hated himself for needing that kind of release.
And he hated that it still tugged at him in the quiet hours.
So that morning, before leaving his flat.
"Just one more day" Sharky whispered to the stale air.
Just one more day to see if anything changed. One more day to survive.
If it didn't get better...he wasn't sure he wanted to think that far.
He put in his airpods but played nothing, letting them act as a wall between him and the world. A way to fake being occupied. To pretend he had something or anything playing loud enough to drown out his head.
////_////_////_////
Outside, the sky was grey. Not stormy, not promising, just dull.
The kind of colour that matched him perfectly.
He walked through the city without really seeing it. Cars honked, people weaved around him, conversations blurred in the air. He didn't register any of it. His mind felt underwater, detached, muffled. Like someone else was moving his body while he floated somewhere far away.
Some part of him kept hoping for something small, something stupid to prove the day might be worth living. A smile from a stranger. A moment of quiet peace. A sign.
But as the hours passed while he shot a video, forced jokes, smiled on command and everything only reinforced the same truth:
Nothing had changed.
No one really saw him. No one noticed the hollowness. They kept moving, laughing, living and he was fading further, piece by piece.
When the shoot wrapped, the others disappeared in pairs and groups without a second glance. Someone muttered "good job today" before rushing off.
Another walked past like he wasn't there. Sharky didn't blame them because he was getting good at being invisible but the indifference still pressed heavy on his ribs.
He slipped his hands into his coat pockets, turning toward home.
Airpods in. No music. Just silence.
And the quiet, terrifying realization that his "one more day" seemed to be going exactly like every other one.
Bleak. Empty. Unbearable.
He wasn't sure he had many left to give.
But he kept walking. Because he'd promised himself.
Just one more day.
////_////_////_////
The world didn't owe him kindness. Sharky knew that. But he'd hoped, just for this one day that maybe it would show him something soft enough to hold onto.
It didn't.
It began with Niko nearly crashing into him at the studio entrance.
"Yo-- sorry, bro, super late-- " Niko said as he rushed past before Sharky could respond, juggling his phone and a coffee, words spilling into the receiver as he ducked through the door.
His energy filled the hallway, but Sharky felt none of its warmth.
Inside, Chunkz was already mid disagreement with someone over props. His voice didn't carry its usual melody, it was tired, rough, impatient.
"Can you guys please-- like PLEASE-- just get it done?" Chunkz said as he didn't look Sharky's way.
Aj offered a nod, barely that stumbled into a half-hearted smile before he was whisked off by a producer.
"Morning, man-- talk later yeah?" Aj said but he didn't come back.
No one meant to ignore him. They were just busy. Just stressed. Just trying to get through their own messes. Sharky knew that logically.
But logic didn't cushion the feeling of being... overlooked.
He sat in a green room chair alone, scrolling through nothing, watching other people laugh. He didn't know who they were talking about, maybe him, maybe someone else but his chest tightened anyway. His mind supplied all the possibilities. None of them were good.
Someone from production walked by, clipped.
"Hey, can you move? We need that seat" Someone had said.
No please. No eye contact. Sharky stood without complaint, stepping aside like furniture being relocated.
He waited for instruction. Waited for someone to tell him what was next. People brushed past him, talking about the shoot, adjusting schedules, handing out notes but none to him.
When he asked a runner where he was meant to be, she barely paused.
"Try asking someone else-- maybe check your email?" She said but she didn't notice the way he swallowed his words.
It was fine. He was fine.
Just one more day.
When filming finally began, his role blurred into background noise. The jokes didn't land. The banter felt forced. Every time he tried to speak, someone cut over him or the moment passed and he was left smiling like an extra in a life he thought he was part of.
"You good?" Chunkz asked as he nudged him once.
Sharky nodded, too quickly.
"Just tired" Sharky mouthed.
Chunkz gave him a soft look, one he didn't have time to unpack and then someone was calling his name and he had to go.
Niko cracked a joke later and the room erupted. Sharky joined the laughter half a second late, the delay making him feel like he was floating a step outside reality. Everyone was here but he felt impossibly alone.
Lunch came and went. He ate in a hallway. He told himself he preferred the quiet.
He hated lies, especially his own.
When the final wrap was called, people scattered like birds. Chunkz clapped his shoulder, distracted.
"Good work, bro—we'll talk later, yeah?" Chunkz said but he was already halfway down the hall.
Aj waved from a distance. Niko jogged past in a hurry, saying something about plans.
No one stayed.
Sharky lingered in the emptying studio, hands stuffed in pockets, chest feeling too heavy for his ribs.
He hadn't expected a miracle today. But he had hoped for... something.
A moment where someone looked at him and actually saw him.
It never came.
Even leaving became a quiet humiliation. A guard at the door ignored his goodbye. A cluster of people chatting outside fell silent when he approached, then resumed once he passed. He pretended he didn't notice.
The walk home pressed down on him like a dull weight. Airpods in with no music. Just silence to drown himself in. He stepped around strangers, eyes on the pavement, trying to hold himself together.
His thoughts crowded in like fog.
They don't need you.
You're dead weight.
If you disappeared, nothing would change.
He tried to argue that these were his brothers, his people and they loved him, he knew they did. But knowing and feeling were two different planets.
And today? Today he felt like nothing.
Every quiet cruelty, every brush-off, every moment he was forgotten and none of it was intentional. He knew that. He couldn't blame them. They were dealing with life too.
But his mind collected those moments like evidence. Proof that he was right to feel hollow.
Proof that the whispering urge inside him wasn't entirely wrong.
By the time he reached the street corner near home, his resolve felt thinner than paper.
One more day had been a promise.
Now, it tasted like a lie.
He wasn't sure he had another to give.
He thought maybe, just maybe if no one saw him today, no one would notice if he disappeared tomorrow.
And that thought... scared him less than it should have.
He slipped deeper into his hood, shoulders hunching, wanting to vanish into the dark.
Just one more day, he'd said.
Today chose its side and it wasn't his.
////_////_////_////
His vision blurred before he realized he was crying.
Not dramatic tears, no shaking shoulders, no audible sobs and just quiet streaks escaping one by one, hot against the cold of the evening.
He didn't fight them, he didn't have the strength. They fell like they'd been waiting all day, sitting behind his eyes with no place to go until now.
He ducked his head quickly and yanked his hoodie up, shadowing his face.
His sleeve brushed clumsily across his cheeks once, twice smearing the wetness but never fully erasing it. The more he wiped, the more they came.
He walked faster.
He didn't want anyone to see him break, not even strangers. If they saw him like this, maybe that illusion would die too.
So he kept moving. One foot, then the next. Like running from himself.
His airpods hissed with static silence, somehow louder than any playlist could've been. Each step felt heavy. He didn't know where he was going, he only knew he needed to move. Stop, and he might crumble right there on the pavement.
His mind twisted the day into a single cutting narrative.
You meant nothing to anyone.
He tried to push the thought away, but it circled back mercilessly.
They didn't even notice you were hurting.
They didn't look for you.
They didn't ask.
They're better without you.
He gasped in a shaky breath that hurt going in.
He loved them. Niko, Chunkz, Aj. They were his people, his brothers, even if not in blood. And he knew, somewhere buried deep, that they cared. That they'd be devastated if they knew what he was feeling.
But when every moment of the day had told him he was invisible... logic couldn't save him.
He felt small. Unnecessary. Like a placeholder anyone could replace.
His fingers dug into the sleeves of his hoodie, balled tight into fists. He blinked rapidly, vision warping with fresh tears he was too tired to wipe away.
He wished someone would call his name. Stop him. Ask if he was okay. Anything.
No one did.
Just cars. Streetlights. Strangers brushing past without looking.
He kept walking.
Faster. Like the pavement might swallow him if he slowed.
Like he could outrun the truth that had been building quietly for weeks, now screaming beneath his ribs:
He didn't matter. Not to anyone. Not enough.
And somewhere in the darkest corner of his mind was cold, calm, terrifyingly gentle, a thought stirred.
Maybe it would be easier if he didn't wake up tomorrow.
He wiped his face again, hiding the wetness behind shaking fingers.
Just one more day, he'd promised.
But tonight, even that felt like too much to ask.
////_////_////_////
Kenny hadn't planned to walk home that way.
He'd stopped by a small cafe tucked behind the high street, the kind of place that played soft jazz too loud and handed out free biscotti when you smiled at the barista. He wasn't in a rush, the day was slow, and the city was bleeding into sunset gold brushing against grey.
He walked with one hand in his jacket pocket, drink in the other, the world muted by the hum of cars and footsteps.
Then, halfway across the street, he saw him.
At first, Kenny didn't recognize the shape of the guy walking ahead, hood up, shoulders tight, pace fast like he was trying to escape the night itself. But there was something about the way he moved that made Kenny pause.
Something off. Not dangerous, just... broken.
As he got closer, the streetlight caught the side of the man's face. A familiar one.
Sharky.
Kenny froze mid step, confusion flickering into concern. They'd crossed paths before, sure, through mutual friends, same circles, same industry but never really talked. Not properly. Kenny knew him mostly through the others, the banter, the laughter, the chaos.
But this wasn't the Sharky everyone knew.
This Sharky's head was down, face half hidden by his hoodie. His hands were balled in his sleeves, dragging them up to his eyes every few seconds. Even from a distance, Kenny could see it, the shaking breaths, the silent shoulders, the kind of crying you only did when you were trying not to be seen.
Something inside Kenny tugged sharply.
He hesitated for a moment, didn't want to intrude but his gut wouldn't let him keep walking. He crossed the street quietly, steps light, heart thudding.
"Hey..." Kenny called out, his voice came out softer than he expected.
"--you good?" Kenny added.
Sharky froze. Didn't turn around at first. His hand moved instinctively to his face, sleeves brushing across his cheeks.
"Yeah" Sharky said quickly, voice rough.
"Yeah, I'm fine" Sharky added.
It was the kind of fine that fooled no one.
Kenny frowned, shifting his weight.
"You sure? 'Cause--" Kenny said as he gestured vaguely, trying not to make it awkward.
"--you look kinda not fine" Kenny added.
"I'm good, bro. Just tired" Sharky said as he let out a weak, humorless laugh.
His tone carried that same brittle edge Kenny recognized too well, the one people used when they wanted to disappear from a conversation before it even started.
But Kenny didn't step back.
He took a small breath, lowered his voice.
"Listen, I don't wanna pry. Just... felt wrong to walk past" Kenny said.
Sharky's shoulders tensed under the hoodie. For a second, Kenny thought he might walk away, and honestly, he wouldn't have blamed him. But then Sharky stood still, like he was torn between pride and exhaustion.
The silence stretched, fragile but real.
Kenny tilted his head slightly, trying to catch his eyes.
"Rough day?" Kenny asked.
Sharky let out a shaky exhale, eyes on the ground.
"Something like that" Sharky said.
"Yeah. Been there" Kenny said as he nodded slowly, giving him space.
That simple line, no pity, no big gesture that hung in the air, warm and human.
Sharky risked a glance up, finally meeting his eyes. For a brief second, Kenny saw it all, the redness, the gloss, the quiet desperation trying so hard to stay hidden.
He didn't look away. Didn't flinch. Just offered a small, understanding smile.
The kind that didn't ask for an explanation.
"Come on" Kenny said after a moment, voice light but kind.
"There's a corner shop up the road. I'll buy you a drink or something. No small talk if you don't want it" Kenny added.
Sharky blinked, startled.
"You don't even know me like that" Sharky said.
"Then I guess I'm starting now" Kenny said as he shrugged.
For the first time that day, something small cracked open inside Sharky, not quite relief, not yet but something close.
He didn't say yes right away. But he didn't say no either.
And maybe that was enough.
////_////_////_////
Sharky didn't know why he stopped walking.
Maybe it was the way Kenny's voice didn't push. Maybe it was how he stood there like he was willing to wait--
Not for an explanation, not for a confession, just for him.
Kenny kept his distance, hands tucked loosely in his jacket pockets. His body language was easy, relaxed, no pressure, no pity. Just... there.
"I'm not trying to make you talk" Kenny said quietly, eyes soft.
"Sometimes it just helps to not be alone" Kenny added.
Sharky swallowed, throat tight. He didn't trust himself to speak, so he just shrugged small, uncertain.
Kenny nodded like that was enough.
They began walking side by side. Not too close because Kenny kept half a step behind, letting Sharky lead without making it obvious. Sharky kept his hood up, gaze low on the pavement. He was still wiping his face every few seconds, hoping the tears weren't obvious in the streetlights.
Kenny didn't comment. He didn't make a big deal out of anything.
"So... I'm Kenny" Kenny said after a quiet minute, voice light like he was easing into a pool rather than diving in.
"Just in case you thought some random guy decided to adopt you mid street" Kenny continued.
Sharky let out a weak breath that could've been a laugh.
"I know who you are" Sharky said.
"Oh" Kenny said as he paused, then grinned.
"Good. Saves me the speech about how famous and important I am" Kenny teased.
"That's not--" Sharky said as he shook his head, wiping his face again.
"You're dumb" Sharky added.
"Absolutely" Kenny said seriously.
"It's part of the charm" Kenny added.
Silence again, but it wasn't heavy this time. It breathed.
Sharky's shoulders slumped a little. Not defeated, more like tired enough to stop pretending.
"What about you?" Kenny asked gently.
"I know of you, obviously. But... I don't think we've ever actually spoken" Kenny said.
Sharky nodded.
"Yeah" Sharky said.
He didn't add more. Kenny didn't need him to.
They walked a few more blocks, passing shop windows glowing pale in the night. Every so often, Kenny tossed a small comment into the air, nothing deep, just threads of connection, offered for Sharky to pick up or ignore.
"That cafe over there is rubbish" Kenny said, pointing subtly.
"The owner tried to charge me extra for breathing, think I got finessed for no reason" Kenny added.
Sharky blinked.
"...Breathing?" Sharky asked curiously.
"Yeah, he said I stayed too long. Like, sorry I enjoy existing" Kenny said.
Sharky's lips twitched.
Kenny smiled at the tiny flicker. Didn't call attention to it. Just kept going.
"So" Kenny said casually.
"You eaten yet?" Kenny asked.
Sharky shook his head.
"Thought so. You've got 'hungry and emotionally damaged' written all over you" Kenny said.
Sharky snorted. The sound surprised even him. Kenny grinned wider.
"Come on. Let's get food. You look like you could use a break" Kenny said.
Sharky hesitated. His instincts screamed to retreat, to go home, shut the door, disappear under blankets and darkness. He didn't want to be seen like this. Didn't want to be known.
"I'm not... good company" Sharky muttered.
"That's fine" Kenny replied.
"I'm enough company for both of us" Kenny said.
Sharky stared at him, this stranger who wasn't really a stranger, who felt safer than he should.
"I don't wanna... be a bother" Sharky added quietly.
"You're not" Kenny said.
Simple. Firm. No hesitation.
Sharky looked away, heart twisting tight. He didn't realize how badly he needed to hear that.
His hands wrung the sleeves of his hoodie. He took a shaky breath.
"...Okay" Sharky said.
Kenny didn't celebrate or act triumphant. He just nodded, like Sharky agreeing was the most normal thing in the world.
"Cool. There's a takeaway spot not far. Best chips you'll ever have" Kenny said.
They kept walking. Still side by side. Still quiet.
But for the first time all day... Sharky didn't feel completely alone.
////_////_////_////
The takeaway spot Kenny mentioned wasn't much to look at.
A narrow storefront with flickering fluorescent lights and mismatched chairs, tucked between a laundromat and a shuttered florist. The glass door jingled weakly when they stepped inside, the sound too bright for how fragile Sharky felt.
The place was nearly empty. A student hunched over fries in the corner, an older man read a newspaper near the window. The air smelled of salt, oil, and something warm and maybe curry.
Kenny ordered for both of them without making a big deal out of it.
"Two chips, extra crispy. One with peri. Trust me" Kenny said.
Sharky didn't argue. He didn't have the energy. Somehow, letting Kenny take the lead felt... safe.
They sat near the back, away from the windows. Soft, yellow light buzzed overhead. The table was clean but old, scarred by pens and keys and someone's vague attempt at carving a heart.
Sharky kept his hood up at first, fingers worrying the strings. His eyes darted from the table to the floor to the untouched napkins. Anywhere but at Kenny.
Kenny didn't push. He just sat, elbows on the table, chin propped in his hand, looking comfortable in the silence.
"So..." Kenny said gently.
"Rough day" Kenny added.
It wasn't a question, just a place to start. Sharky let out a slow breath.
"Yeah" Sharky said.
He didn't elaborate. Didn't know how. Kenny nodded, accepting that. He sipped water, leaned back, and let the quiet sit with them.
Most people tried to fill silence, afraid of its weight. Kenny treated it like a blanket, warm, shared, gentle.
The food came, steaming and golden. The smell hit Sharky's senses hard. He didn't realize how hungry he actually was until the tray hit the table.
"Go on" Kenny said as he pushed a box toward him.
Sharky hesitated, then picked up a fry. It was hot, crisp, perfect. The salt settled on his tongue in a way that grounded him, like he'd been floating too long and finally felt something heavy enough to hold.
Kenny watched him quietly, not staring, just... noticing.
After a moment, he spoke again, casual, soft.
"You don't have to tell me anything. But I'm here" Kenny said.
Sharky stared at the table. He didn't know what compelled him to say it. Maybe the warmth of the food. Maybe the quiet. Maybe Kenny.
"...Everyone kept ignoring me today" Sharky said.
The words came out barely above a murmur.
Kenny didn't look surprised, or confused, or dismissive. He just nodded.
"Yeah?" Kenny said.
Sharky swallowed.
"They were busy. I get that. I just..." Sharky said as he paused, picking at a fry he wasn't eating anymore.
"I felt... invisible" Sharky added.
The admission hung in the air, trembling. Kenny didn't rush to reassure him.
Didn't say You're not or I'm sure they didn't mean it. He just said.
"That must've sucked" Kenny said.
Sharky's chest tightened. He nodded.
"Yeah" Sharky agreed.
"Happens to me sometimes too" Kenny said as he reached for his own fries.
"You? But you're-- " Sharky said as he glanced up, surprised.
"Human?" Kenny cuts in with a raised a brow.
Sharky's lips twitched.
"I mean... yeah" Sharky said.
Kenny leaned back.
"All jokes aside, it's real. You can be surrounded by people and still feel like you're not actually there " Kenny said as he tapped the table lightly.
"I get it" Kenny added.
Sharky didn't know what to say to that. No one had ever validated it so simply.
They ate in stretches of quiet, broken occasionally by small comments. Nothing deep, just enough to keep something alive between them.
At one point, Kenny held up a fry.
"These are elite, yeah?" Kenny asked.
Sharky managed a small laugh.
"They're alright" Sharky said.
"Alright?" Kenny said as he fake gasped.
"You're violating" Kenny added.
Sharky felt something ease in his chest. Not fully, just enough to breathe.
Kenny talked a little, about the cafe he hated, about a kid who tried to sell him a fake designer hat, about how he once accidentally waved at someone who wasn't actually waving at him.
Sharky listened. He didn't have to respond much. Kenny carried the conversation lightly, never heavy, never too bright, always aware of the fragility sitting across from him.
And slowly, almost without noticing it happen, Sharky's shoulders dropped. His grip on his hoodie loosened. His breathing steadied.
For the first time in a long time, he felt... seen.
Not because he had explained everything. Not because someone fixed him.
But because Kenny stayed.
Just stayed.
Warm. Funny. Gentle. A steady presence in the middle of his unraveling.
Sharky didn't understand why it helped.
Why this stranger was reaching him in ways people he loved couldn't?
Why his heart felt a little less heavy?
He only knew one thing. For the first time all day, the darkness didn't feel like it was swallowing him whole.
////_////_////_////
The warmth of the takeaway didn't last.
It followed Sharky home only faintly like a scent on his clothes, fading with every step. Kenny had walked him part of the way. Not all the way, he'd stopped at the station, saying with a soft smile,
"Text me when you get home, yeah? Just so I know you're safe" Kenny said.
It felt strange, having someone ask. Strange... but nice.
Before they parted, Kenny rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly shy, gaze flicking away.
"Um-- listen" Kenny murmured, pulling his phone out.
"I, uh... would it be weird if I... got your number?" Kenny added, shyly.
His ears were pink. Actually pink. Sharky blinked.
"...Seriously?" Sharky asked.
"Yeah, I just-- " Kenny said as he cleared his throat.
"I wanna check in. Make sure you're good. And also--" Kenny continued as his voice dropped, playful but nervous,
"--you seem pretty cool, when you're not crying in the street" Kenny added.
Sharky stared at him... then snorted.
"I hate you" Sharky said.
"I know" Kenny said as he grinned, holding out his phone.
"Number?" Kenny asked.
Sharky typed it in without thinking too hard. Kenny stared at the contact like it was something precious, then nodded once, too quickly.
"Cool. I'll, um... text you" Kenny said.
"Smooth" Sharky teased weakly.
"Shut up" Kenny muttered, smiling.
And then he left. Sharky watched him go until he was swallowed by the station lights.
For a while, the memory of that tiny smile carried him. But as night settled, the weight crept back in.
His flat felt too quiet. Too dark. Too empty.
The air felt heavier than it should. Like it carried every mistake, every insecurity, every whisper telling him he was nothing.
He lay on his bed staring at the ceiling, phone on his chest. He didn't know how long he stayed like that.
Minutes. Hours. Time didn't feel real.
At some point, the thoughts returned, darker than before.
No one would notice.
No one would care.
One less problem in the world.
His breathing turned shallow. Hands cold. Chest tight. He sat up, dizzy, overwhelmed.
His mind shifted to survival mode, just not his own. He stood. Moved toward the drawer. Reached. His fingers brushed what he shouldn't touch.
Then, his phone buzzed. The vibration startled him so hard he jumped. He stared at the screen.
Kenny
You home?
Sharky's throat closed. He typed back with trembling hands.
Yeah.
A pause. Then.
Can I call you?
Sharky swallowed. He didn't want to talk because he didn't trust his voice. He didn't want to cry again. But his fingers moved before he decided.
yeah
The phone rang not even a second later. Like Kenny had been waiting. Sharky answered but said nothing.
"Hey" Kenny murmured. Soft. Careful. Like he knew any loud sound might shatter him.
"...hey" Sharky said.
"You sound off" Kenny said. Not a question.An observation.
Sharky's breath stuttered.
"I'm-- I'm fine" Sharky said.
Kenny exhaled slowly.
"Don't do that" Kenny said.
Sharky squeezed his eyes shut.
"...Do what?" Sharky asked.
"Lie" Kenny said.
Silence. Sharky's breathing hitched.
"I'm coming over" Kenny said.
"What-- no--" Sharky said as his voice shook.
"You don't have to" Sharky added.
"I want to" Kenny said.
More silence. Then, very softly.
"Please let me" Kenny said.
Sharky's legs gave out. He sank to the floor, back against his bed.
"...Okay" Sharky said.
"Send me your address" Kenny said.
"I'm already leaving" Kenny added.
Sharky's fingers barely worked as he typed. He didn't know why he trusted him. Didn't know why Kenny cared.
After sending it, he curled in on himself. Hands in his hair. Heart racing.
Minutes stretched. Maybe ten. Maybe less.
Then a knock.
Sharky froze. Moved slowly to open the door.
Kenny stood there, breathless from rushing, sweatshirt thrown on over his clothes, hair slightly messy like he didn't care how he looked, only that he got here fast enough.
He took one look at Sharky and his expression softened with worry.
"Oh, mate..." Kenny said.
He stepped inside without waiting, closing the door gently, not slamming, not startling. His presence filled the space, warm and solid.
"You're safe" Kenny murmured.
Sharky didn't realize he was crying until Kenny thumbed a tear off his cheek.
His hand was warm. Steady.
Kenny didn't ask what he was thinking. Didn't ask what he almost did. He just guided Sharky to sit on the edge of the bed, then sat beside him.
They stayed like that. Quiet. Breathing the same air.
"You're not alone. I'm here" Kenny said, his voice was barely a whisper.
Sharky trembled, trying to hold it in, but a sob escaped anyway, small, broken. Kenny didn't flinch. He pulled Sharky into a hug, slow, so he could pull away if he wanted.
Sharky didn't.
He sagged into him, forehead against Kenny's shoulder, fists gripping the fabric of his hoodie like a lifeline.
Kenny held him. Not tight, just enough.
"I'm right here" Kenny whispered again.
"Just breathe. That's all you have to do" Kenny added.
So Sharky breathed. Shallow at first. Slowly evening out.
Minutes passed like that. No questions. No demands.
Just presence. And something in Sharky unclenched.
He didn't try again. Couldn't. Not while Kenny was there.
At some point, Sharky whispered, not sure if he meant to say it out loud.
"...Thank you" Sharky said.
Kenny squeezed his shoulder gently.
"Anytime" Kenny said.
He stayed the whole night. He sat beside Sharky until his breathing steadied, until exhaustion finally pulled him under.
Sharky wasn't sure if Kenny slept at all. He only knew that when he woke, Kenny was still there. Sitting on the floor, back against the bed, head tipped against Sharky's leg.
Sharky stared at him, overwhelmed by something he couldn't name.
He didn't say it out loud. Not then.
But that night...
Kenny became the reason he lived one more day.
////_////_////_////
It didn't happen overnight.
There was no dramatic sunrise that cured anything. Just small things, tiny, quiet, almost unnoticeable shifts that, somehow, began to stitch Sharky's edges back together.
Kenny kept in touch.
Not in a suffocating way. Never pushing. Just... present.
A morning text like. "You eat yet? I'll judge your choices"
A random picture of something stupid he saw on the street, a cat wearing a sweater, a poorly drawn sign, a pigeon fighting bread.
A voice note that was just the sound of Kenny laughing because he said he remembered a joke but forgot the joke, so now Sharky had to deal with the confusion too.
Sharky saved every single one.
They started hanging out. Once a week, then twice, then somehow it became most days, coffee runs, wandering aimlessly around the city, watching dumb videos in someone's living room, scrolling through menus for way too long before ordering the same thing again.
Sharky wasn't sure when it changed.
Maybe the second time they met at that little takeaway shop, when Kenny greeted him with a smile too bright for such a dim place.
Maybe the night Kenny sat with him on the floor of his apartment until his breathing slowed enough to sleep.
Maybe it was earlier, when Kenny first asked for his number, voice tripping over itself like a puppy learning its legs.
Either way... Kenny stayed. And Sharky did too.
Sharky started eating a little more. Not big meals, just enough that Kenny stopped giving him suspicious eyes and humming in disapproval.
He slept, not perfectly, but enough that mornings didn't feel like punishment.
And he smiled. Small, careful ones at first.
Then real ones, the kind that crept up unexpectedly when Kenny butchered a song on purpose just to make him laugh, or narrated their walks like some dramatic nature documentary.
"And here we observe the rare Sharky in his natural habitat-- the streets... bum-bum-buuuum-- wearing a hoodie because he thinks he's mysterious" Kenny teased.
Sharky hit him with a rolled-up napkin. Kenny claimed the assault would go down in history.
The stupidness helped. It eased things in ways medicine and sleep couldn't.
Sharky began to notice the quieter things.
Kenny never made him feel like work.
Never sighed when he seemed low. Never acted tired of him. Never said he was "too much" or "too complicated"
If Sharky was silent, Kenny didn't force conversation, he just sat there, sharing space like it was enough.
If Sharky rambled about some random small thing, Kenny listened, eyes warm, head tilted like he genuinely cared about the history of pens or how Sharky once wanted to be an astronaut.
When Sharky couldn't decide on something, food, movies, plans, Kenny always gave him options, gentle and thoughtful.
"You wanna stay in?"
"We can go out if you feel like it"
"We can do nothing too, that's a valid plan"
Not once did he complain. To Kenny, Sharky never felt like a burden. And that terrified him more than anything. Because...
What if he got used to it?
What if he let himself believe he mattered?
But every time the thought came, Kenny's presence softened it, made it less sharp, less threatening.
Because maybe he did matter. At least to one person.
////_////_////_////
One afternoon, they sat on a park bench. The sun was warm, people walked their dogs, leaves rustled in lazy swells of wind.
Sharky leaned back, eyes half closed. Kenny sat beside him, sipping something too sweet and refusing to admit it.
"You seem better" Kenny said casually.
Sharky opened his eyes, surprised.
"I... I don't know" Sharky said honestly.
"That's alright" Kenny said as he swung his legs a little, like a kid.
"You don't have to know" Kenny added.
Sharky stared ahead. A dog barked somewhere. The world felt soft, not blinding, not overwhelming. Just... there.
"...Thanks" Sharky murmured.
"For what?" Kenny asked.
Sharky considered. For the nights Kenny stayed. For the mornings he checked in. For making him laugh on days that felt impossible. For seeing him. For not letting go.
"For... being here" Sharky said.
Kenny didn't look at him. Just smiled at the path in front of them and bumped their shoulders together.
"Where else would I be?" Kenny asked.
And Sharky didn't have an answer.
Because sometimes, without even meaning to, someone becomes the place you go back to.
And Kenny, had somehow became that place.
////_////_////_////
A week later, it just... felt right.
Sharky wasn't sure when the idea settled in his mind, introducing Kenny to the boys but once it arrived, it stayed, warm and stubborn. Part of him felt nervous, like he was bringing someone home to meet family. Another part, the bigger one, felt proud.
Because Kenny had become important.
Not just a fleeting presence. Not just a nice distraction. Someone real. Someone steady.
Someone who helped him breathe.
So he invited him.
Just a chill hang
Sharky had texted him, chewing on his nails afterwards due to nervousness.
They're idiots, but like... loveable idiots
Kenny replied instantly.
Lucky for you, I'm also an idiot. I'll fit right in.
Sharky rolled his eyes, smiling.
They met at the boys' usual spot, where the living room always looked like a tornado had politely asked if it could rearrange everything. Energy drinks everywhere. Random props from old videos. A mysterious sock no one claimed.
Chunkz spotted them first.
"SHARKY!" Chunkz called out as his voice boomed, then halted mid volume when he saw Kenny behind him.
"Ohhhh... guest?" Chunkz asked.
"Kenny" Sharky said, trying to sound casual.
"This is Chunkz" Sharky added.
Chunkz's grin widened immediately, warm and big and sincere.
"No way? Kenny! The legend! Come in fam, come in, come in-- Sharky brought a friend?" Chunkz said.
Sharky elbowed him. Chunkz pretended to die on the spot. Kenny laughed, moving into the chaos like he'd trained for this his whole life.
Aj appeared next, wandering in with a bowl of cereal despite it being 6 PM
He looked at Kenny. Then Sharky. Then Kenny again.
"Ohhh you're Kenny" Aj said, like everything suddenly made sense.
"Heard you're funny. Be funnier than Niko, yeah?" Aj teased.
"I'm right here, I can hear you, you prick--" Niko called from the couch, sounding offended but not actually moving.
"What's good, bro?" Kenny said as he sat next to him and offered a handshake.
Niko grabbed his hand and nodded in immediate approval.
"Yeah, he's cool. I like him" Niko said.
And that was that.
The night unfolded easily, effortlessly. Kenny fit into the dynamic like he'd been there for years, teasing and laughing, joining in on whatever dumb story was being told.
Chunkz challenged him to guess his favorite snack. Kenny got it right on the second try.
Niko tried to argue about football, Kenny argued back, then ten minutes later they were shouting about teams neither actually supported.
Sharky watched. Quiet. Smiling.
He didn't realize how tightly he'd been wound about this, worried Kenny wouldn't fit, or worse, that the boys would tease until Kenny never came back. But none of that happened.
They liked him. Immediately. Naturally.
At one point, Chunkz leaned over to Sharky and said under his breath.
"He's good for you, man" Chunkz said.
Sharky blinked.
"What?" Sharky asked.
Chunkz nodded, gaze warm.
"You look... lighter. Happier. Haven't seen that in a while" Chunkz said as his voice softened.
"Whoever he is to you... I'm glad" Chunkz added with a small smile.
Sharky swallowed, throat suddenly tight.
He didn't know what to say. Didn't know how to explain that Kenny was the reason he was still here, sitting on this couch, laughing at dumb jokes, breathing.
So he just nodded.
"Yeah" Sharky murmured.
"Me too" Sharky added.
Across the room, Kenny caught his eyes. He smiled at him, small and soft.
Sharky felt his chest warm.
Near the end of the evening, Niko nudged Sharky's shoulder.
"Man" Niko said, voice low.
"Whatever you've been doing... keep doing it. It's good seeing you like this" Niko said.
"Did I look that bad before?" Sharky asked as he looked down, embarrassed.
Niko hesitated.
"Not bad... just... far" Niko said as he shrugged.
"You seem closer now" Niko added.
Sharky didn't know how to respond.
"...Thanks" Sharky whispered.
Niko bumped him lightly, letting the conversation drop.
No interrogation. No pressure. Just love. Quiet and unconditional.
When Kenny finally left that night, the boys waved and yelled promises to meet again. And Sharky felt something unfamiliar blooming in his chest.
Hope. Warm and hesitant. But real.
For the first time in a long time, he didn't dread tomorrow.
Because he had people who wanted him here.
And one person in particular who made him want to stay.
////_////_////_////
Time moved strangely after that first night.
Two months passed, maybe a little more but they didn't feel like months. They felt like pieces of life stitched together by shared meals, quiet talks, stupid arguments about cereal brands, late night drives with no destination, and mornings where Sharky woke to find a message already waiting for him.
Kenny became routine. In the gentlest way.
They built a rhythm without ever naming it.
Mondays were for takeaway. Tuesdays were for wandering. Wednesdays for movie nights. And every day, without fail, Kenny checked in, even if just a simple "you good?"
Sharky wasn't fine every day, but he was better. Better than he'd been in years. He slept even if not perfectly, but enough. He ate, well not much, but consistently. He laughed more and more often.
He was healing, slowly, quietly. And with every passing week, he felt safer.
Not because the dark thoughts vanished but because he wasn't facing them alone.
It happened on a calm evening.
They were at Sharky's place, curled up on the sofa. A movie played faintly in the background, something mindless neither was paying attention to. Sharky sat with his knees pulled to his chest, Kenny lounged beside him, absentmindedly trying to balance a biscuit on his forehead.
"Bro" Kenny muttered.
"I swear this biscuit is anti-gravity-- why won't it stay--" Kenny said.
It fell immediately.
Sharky snorted. Kenny looked personally betrayed.
They laughed, soft and unhurried, the kind of laughter that happened simply because they were together.
Then Sharky's smile faded, slowly, like a candle shrinking.
The quiet settled. Not uncomfortable. Just... real.
"...Kenny?" Sharky said, voice low.
"Yeah?" Kenny asked as he raised an eyebrow.
Sharky hesitated. His fingers picked at the fabric of the couch. He felt his heartbeat everywhere, ears, throat, ribs.
"There's... something I never told you" Sharky said.
Kenny shifted, sitting upright, giving him full attention, not intense, not pushing. Just present.
"Whatever it is" Kenny said gently.
"I'm listening" Kenny added.
Sharky inhaled shakily.
"You remember... the night we met?" Sharky asked.
Kenny nodded.
"The street? Yeah" Kenny said.
Sharky swallowed hard. His voice broke before he could stop it.
"I was going to end everything that night" Sharky said.
Kenny froze.
Sharky kept staring at his hands. He couldn't look up. He didn't want to see disgust or disappointment, even regret.
"That day was... bad. Worse than usual. I felt like I was... done" Sharky said as his throat tightened.
"I told myself I'd give life one more day. Just... one. And it was shit. Everything felt pointless. I thought... no one would care" Sharky added.
A tear slipped down, dripping onto his jeans.
"I didn't tell you because... I didn't want to put that on you. You barely knew me. I didn't want to trap you. I didn't want to be a burden" Sharky continued.
"I'm sorry" Sharky said as his voice fell to a whisper.
For a moment, nothing.
Just stillness.
Then Kenny's breath hitched, audible, sharp.
"Oh, Sharky..." Kenny said as his voice cracked.
He shifted closer, reaching out but stopping inches away, giving Sharky space to come to him instead.
Sharky didn't move. So Kenny did, slowly, carefully pulling him into a soft, trembling hug.
Sharky stiffened... then melted. Kenny's arms tightened around him like he was afraid Sharky might vanish.
Sharky felt Kenny's breath shake against his shoulder.
"You don't have to be sorry" Kenny whispered, voice thick. His hand rubbed slow circles on Sharky's back.
"I'm just... I'm glad you're still here. I'm glad I met you" Kenny said.
Sharky closed his eyes, letting the words land, gentle but heavy.
Kenny pulled back, cupping Sharky's cheeks with warm hands. His eyes were wet.
"You hear me?" Kenny said, voice unsteady.
"You're not a burden. Not to me. Not ever" Kenny added.
Sharky swallowed hard. His vision blurred.
"I just... I didn't think I deserved anything good" Sharky said.
Kenny shook his head, small and firm, thumbs brushing tears off Sharky's skin.
"You deserve everything good" Kenny whispered.
"You deserve people who care. You deserve to be here" Kenny added.
Sharky's chest ached, too full, too raw.
"I care about you" Kenny said.
Not dramatic. Not hesitant. Just truth.
"I care about you so much. I want you here. With us. With me" Kenny said.
Sharky stared at him, breath trembling.
No one had ever said it like that. Like it was obvious. Like it made sense.
"I'm glad I showed up that night" Kenny murmured.
"But I didn't save you. You saved yourself. You chose to stay" Kenny added.
Sharky shook his head, voice barely audible.
"I stayed because you were there" Sharky said.
Kenny exhaled, eyes glistening.
"Then I'll be here" Kenny said.
"As long as it takes" Kenny added.
Sharky leaned into him, forehead pressing against Kenny's shoulder.
For the first time, speaking the truth didn't feel like a weight. It felt like release.
Because now? He wasn't carrying it alone.