Tomas caught him before he hit the ground.
Samuel's phone slipped from his hand and struck the pavement hard, skidding a short distance before stopping. His knees gave way almost immediately, like his body had reached a decision without consulting him. For a moment he sagged forward, unsteady, then Tomas was there, gripping the back of his jacket, holding him up.
"Sam," Tomas said. "Hey. Look at me."
Samuel's mouth moved. No sound came out. His chest kept rising too fast, breaths tripping over each other, like he couldn't get enough air no matter how much he pulled in.
People were starting to stare.
Tomas noticed and swore under his breath. He hooked an arm around Samuel's shoulder and steered him away from the street.
"Not here," he said. "Come on."
They turned down a side road and into an alley wedged between two buildings. No rain. No wind. Just concrete, trash bins, and the distant sound of traffic leaking in from the main road. Tomas pressed Samuel gently back against the wall.
Samuel folded.
His hands clutched at Tomas's shirt, knuckles white, fingers shaking so badly they slipped. His face twisted, and the sound that came out of him wasn't controlled or quiet. It tore out of his chest, cracked and helpless.
"She's gone," he said. "She's gone, man."
Tomas didn't say anything at first. He just wrapped his arms around him and held him there while Samuel shook, shoulders jerking as if something inside him was breaking loose piece by piece.
"I was just with her," Samuel said between breaths. "I was trying. I was trying so hard."
"I know," Tomas said softly. "I know."
Samuel slid down the wall until he was sitting on the ground. Tomas followed, staying close, one hand steady on his shoulder. Samuel buried his face in his hands and cried until his throat burned and his head throbbed.
Nothing about it felt dramatic.
It felt empty. Wrong.
---
The hospital was quieter when they went back.
The nurse recognized him immediately. She didn't ask questions. She just nodded and told him she was sorry, like she had said it a hundred times already that night.
The room was small.
His mother lay on the bed, covered up to her chest. No machines. No wires. Just her, still in a way Samuel had never seen before.
She looked smaller than he remembered.
He stepped closer and stood there for a long time before touching her hand. It was cold. Not dangerously cold. Just unmistakably lifeless.
His chest tightened.
"Why?" he whispered.
The word came out broken, barely there.
"Why did you leave me?" His voice trembled, cracking under the weight of it. "Why did you—"
He swallowed hard, shaking his head.
"This wasn't how it was supposed to be," he said. "This wasn't how everything was supposed to go."
The words didn't fix anything. They just hung there, useless.
Tomas stood near the door, eyes fixed on the wall, giving him space.
---
The burial happened two days later.
Rain fell steadily, soaking into the ground, turning the earth heavy and dark. Samuel stood motionless while the coffin was lowered, dirt striking wood in slow, final sounds.
He didn't cry.
He felt hollowed out, like grief had taken everything with it and left nothing behind.
When it was over, he walked away without looking back.
---
The anger came after.
It started as a low hum under his skin.
He paced Tomas's apartment, back and forth, hands clenched, jaw tight. His breath came heavy, uneven.
"Fuck," he muttered, running a hand through his hair.
He stopped suddenly and punched the wall.
Once.
Then again.
"This is all his fault," Samuel said, his voice low at first, shaking. "All of it."
Tomas sat up straighter. "Sam—"
"He broke her," Samuel snapped, voice rising now. "He destroyed her. She wasn't like that before him." He laughed sharply, bitter. "That bastard."
His eyes landed on the counter.
The glass cup shattered against the wall in an explosion of sound, fragments raining onto the floor.
A door creaked open down the hall.
Joseph stepped out of his room, eyes wide, taking in the broken glass, Samuel's heaving chest.
"What the hell—"
Tomas was on his feet now, moving fast. "Joe, give us a second."
Joseph hesitated, then nodded and retreated.
Samuel's hands were shaking violently. His breathing was loud in the room, ragged and uncontrolled.
"I can't just let him get away," he said. "I can't."
Tomas stepped closer, careful but firm. "Sam."
Samuel turned on him, eyes burning. "You don't understand—"
"I do," Tomas said. "And he won't."
Samuel swallowed hard.
Tomas met his gaze.
"I will help you."