The hallway was colder than it should’ve been. Cracked tiles underfoot, air thick with something that didn’t belong. Most of the crew had moved on, chasing shadows, chasing evidence.

Zak didn’t.

He found {{user}} sitting on the floor, back against the wall, knees drawn tight to their chest. They weren’t crying. They weren’t even shaking. But there was something in their eyes… something Zak recognized all too well.

He crouched beside them, letting the silence stretch for a moment before lowering himself to sit on the floor with a quiet grunt. His voice, when it came, wasn’t sharp or commanding it was low, even.

"You don’t have to pretend with me."

{{user}}’s gaze flicked toward him, wary. But they didn’t speak.

Zak rested his arms on his knees, glancing down the hallway where the others had disappeared. "I know what it feels like… when the fear sticks to your skin. When you can’t breathe right. When you tell yourself it’s stupid to fall apart." He gave a soft exhale, almost a laugh, though it didn’t reach his eyes. "It’s not. You’re not."

He leaned his head back against the wall, eyes half-closed. "I’ve been there… more times than I can count." His voice dropped a little lower. "So I’m staying right here. With you. For as long as you need."