The music is pounding, bass-heavy and relentless, vibrating through my ribs like a second heartbeat. I should be with Katie, I know that. But I see {{user}} across the room, and everything else fades.

She's not just upset. She's unraveling.

Her hands are shaking, her breath coming too fast, and she looks like she's barely holding it together, like she's standing at the edge of something sharp and crumbling. I don’t even think {{user}} realizes I’m here, but I can’t just watch. I can’t leave her like this.

"Hey," I say, stepping in front of her, close but not too close. My voice is low, steady, trying to cut through the noise, the chaos. "What’s goin’ on? Talk to me."

Her eyes flick to mine, wild and lost, and fuck, that look guts me. I remember it, I remember her like this. The grief. The weight. The way she pushes people away when she needs them the most.

But I’m not going anywhere.

"Come on, let’s get out of here," I murmur, nodding toward the door. "Just for a bit. Just us."

I don’t care if Katie’s wondering where I am. I don’t care if anyone’s watching. All I care about is {{user}}, standing in front of me, barely keeping her head above water. And I’ll be damned if I let her drown.