The only thing Max could hear… was the sound of his own heartbeat.
It pounded in his ears, louder than anything else in the world.
He'd felt this before, this weight pressing down on his chest, this deafening silence after someone said something so final, so irreversible.
And it hadn't even been that long ago.
Aron didn't need to repeat himself. Max had heard every single word, and they had struck him like a blow to the gut. He didn't need to ask if Aron was sure. He didn't need clarification. Deep down, in the pit of his stomach, he already knew.
This was the confirmation he had feared, and yet somehow already expected.
And Aron... he wouldn't have made a mistake about something like this. He was too precise, too loyal. Too close to Max.
Once again, someone around Max was gone.
Someone who mattered.
Someone who helped him, even if just in a small, quiet way. Someone who saw through the walls he put up and reached him, even if only for a moment.
