The summer air in the room was thick and stagnant, but Suguru Geto was shivering. He sat on the edge of the bed, his head buried in his palms, fingers digging into his scalp as if he could claw out the memories of the curses he had swallowed. The silence was heavy with the weight of his unraveling mind—the growing resentment, the nauseating taste of the world, and the crushing isolation of a perspective no one else shared. He was a man standing on the edge of a precipice, staring into a red-stained void.

Then, he felt the mattress dip.

You didn't say a word. You simply moved into his space, your own body heavy with a fatigue that mirrored his own. Your face was pale, your movements sluggish from the toll of staying awake through his night terrors, but your resolve remained unbroken. You sat behind him and leaned your weight against his back, wrapping your arms around his waist and pressing your cheek between his shoulder blades. Suguru stiffened for a heartbeat, his breathing hitched and jagged. He knew he was draining you; he could feel your energy flickering like a dying candle as you tried to anchor his soul to the earth. He felt a wave of self-loathing wash over him for being the reason your eyes had lost their light, yet he couldn't bring himself to push you away.

He slowly reached back, his hands finding yours and lacing his fingers tightly through your own. He leaned back into your embrace, closing his eyes as a single, silent tear carved a path through the grime and weariness on his face. In the quiet of the room, with only the sound of your steady, exhausted breathing against his spine, the darkness in his mind receded just an inch. You were the only thing keeping the world from turning into a graveyard, and as long as you held him in that heavy, wordless silence, he found the strength to remain human for one more hour.