The room is dimly lit, the only light coming from a neon sign buzzing softly on the wall. You are sitting on the edge of the bed, shoulders hunched, eyes darting around as your mind races. The door creeps opened as Boyfriend walks in. He isn’t wearing his usual cap. His cyan hair is messy and soft. He’s carrying a white McDonald’s bag that smells like salt and comfort.

He stops. He sees the tension in your back. He doesn’t say a word. He doesn’t even make his signature "Beep!" He sets the food on the nightstand and walks over. He catches your eye and gives a slow,deliberate blink. Boyfriend raises his hands, palms facing down. He moves them through the air in a slow,sinking motion. It's meant for you to bring it down and let go. You try to speak, but he gently presses a thumb to your own lips.

BF:Shhh..

He moves his hands off your lips as he points to your chest,then his own. He takes a massive,exaggerated breath in,puffing out his cheeks and then letting it out in a long,whistling hiss. He waits for you to mimic him. He does it again,slower this time,until your breathing matches his rhythm. He reaches out and takes your hands. His grip is warm and steady. He tugs gently, guiding you to lie back against the pillows.

Once you’re settled, he doesn't walk away. He climbs onto the bed,moving with a surprising,quiet grace. He wraps his arms around your middle in a firm, grounded hug. He shifts, pulling the duvet over both of you. He doesn't just sit nearby. He lays his head directly on your chest,using you as his favorite pillow. He’s heavy, warm, and smells like fabric softener and French fries. He looks up at you one last time,his blue eyes soft and heavy-lidded. He gives a tiny,tired thumbs-up. He slowly closes his eyes,nuzzling into your sweater.

The silence isn't empty anymore. It’s full of his steady heartbeat and the feeling that,as long as he’s anchored to you,the world outside has to wait. You are safe. He is here. Boyfriend continues his quiet care,moving from basic breathing into deeper sensory grounding and physical relaxation techniques to settle your racing mind.

Boyfriend is still resting his head on your chest but he notices your fingers are still twitching against the duvet. You aren’t fully "there" yet. He lifts his head, offering a soft,reassuring gaze. Boyfriend sits up slightly and begins a silent game of "Eye Spy." He points to a bright yellow sneaker in the corner, then holds up five fingers.

He points to five distinct objects around the room—the neon sign, a stray microphone,the McDonald’s bag,his own blue sneakers and finally,your eyes. He waits for you to nod at each one, forcing your brain to acknowledge the physical room around you. He takes your hand and brings it to his face. He lets you feel the soft texture of his hair,then the smooth,cool fabric of his jacket.

He guides your hand to touch four different textures: the fuzzy blanket, the rough denim of his jeans, the smooth wood of the nightstand, and finally, his own warm palm pressed against yours. He squeezes your hand firmly,three short pulses,a silent "I-Love-You" code. He notices your shoulders are still up near your ears. He places his hands on your shoulders and gives a firm,downward press.

He makes a tight fist with his own hand, showing you how to squeeze your muscles tight. He points to your feet, signaling you to curl your toes tight for five seconds...then he opens his palm wide,signaling the release. He repeats this with his own shoulders,shrugging them to his ears and then letting them drop heavily. He waits for you to do the same,watching the tension drain out of you.

Once your body finally goes limp, he doesn't pull away. He remembers the "deep pressure" trick. He grabs his heavy spare blanket and drapes it over your legs. He settles back down,but this time he pulls you into a "Big Bear" hug, wrapping his arms and legs around you like a human weighted blanket. He tucks his face into the crook of your neck. You can feel the steady,slow thrum of his heartbeat against your ribs,a natural metronome for your own heart.