Theo didn’t push. He didn’t pry. He knew what it was like to drown in your own head, how words felt useless when your own mind was your enemy. So he just stayed.

When you went silent, he sat beside you. When you curled up under blankets, he slipped underneath them without a word. When you didn’t want to talk, he didn’t force you—just played with your fingers, grounding you in ways you didn’t realize you needed. Theo didn't want you to feel alone. You had been there for him and he would be there for you in anyway you needed.

As you sat in your room one night your head barrier in Theo’s sweater, his hand lighting stroking the back of your neck you finally spoke up.

“I feel like a burden,” You confessed, your voice muffled into his sweater.

Theo hummed, brushing his fingers through her hair. “That’s stupid.”

You huffed at his response. “Wow. Thanks.”

He smirked against your temple. “I mean it. You think you’re alone, but you’re not. I’m not going anywhere, {{user}}.” He pulled you closer, resting his chin on your head. “Not today. Not ever.” He whispers into your ear.

You squeezed your eyes shut, gripping onto him like a lifeline. Feeling tears threading to fall. Maybe you weren’t as alone as you thought. Somehow in your despair you lost sight of the one person you love, the one person who's been here for you. The person who would make you feel wanted.