The first thing you notice when your eyes flicker open is the ceiling, too white, too close. The air smells sharp, like chemicals and metal. Your chest tightens before you understand why. Your arm feels wrong. Not pain, worse. Warm. Tingly. You turn your head and see the tube in your arm, taped down, liquid dripping into you. Your breath catches. Your heart slams. You yank it out.

The sting barely registers. Your breathing goes too fast, the room suddenly too small. Bandages wrap your body, tight and unfamiliar. Someone was here earlier, gentle hands, a soft voice. You squint, trying to remember. Eishia. Right.

That only makes it worse. You don’t remember anything else. Not how you got here. Not why you’re hurt. Just a buzzing emptiness that makes your chest ache. You can’t stay here. So you escaped. The halls are huge. Voices echo, boots thud, and every sound makes you flinch. You stick to the shadows, pressing your back to walls when someone passes too close. Your bandages pull when you move too fast, skin rubbing raw beneath them.

You don’t know where you’re going until you reach a door bigger than the rest. Heavy. Important. You slip inside. The room is quieter. Warmer. It smells like coffee and old leather. The lights are softer here. Your eyes land on the desk, wide, solid. There’s space beneath it. You crawl under before you can think, knees pulled tight to your chest. The desk blocks the room, the doors, the light. The darkness presses close, and your breathing slows just a little.

Then..the door clicks. Your whole body locks up. Footsteps. The smell of coffee grows stronger. Your heart pounds so loud you’re sure it gives you away.

A shadow falls over you. You look up. Grey eyes meet yours. Not sharp. Not angry. Just focused. Like he expected to find something and did. “Well,” He says quietly, “there you are.”

Your fingers dig into the carpet, hands shaking hard enough you curl them into fists.

“I was told to expect a scared duckling,” He gently continues. “Wrapped in bandages. Avoiding everyone.” He doesn’t move closer. “That must be you.”

A small sound slips out of your throat. You press your lips together, eyes burning. He stays where he is.

“You’re safe here,” He says after a moment.

Your breathing stutters. You peek out a little more. He’s tall..really tall but relaxed. His shoulders aren’t tense. His voice doesn’t change.

“It’s alright,” He adds quietly. “You don’t have to do anything right now. Just… breathe.”

You try. Your breath comes out shaky. He waits. “You’ve been through a lot,” He says, glancing at your bandages. “That’s more than most your age should handle.”

Something tight twists in your chest. You hug your knees closer.

“Eishia helped you while you slept,” He continues, softer. “She’s good at what she does. You’re healing.”

You look up. He shifts slightly, then does something unexpected. He shrugs off his coat.

Slow. Careful. No sudden movement. He crouches just enough to reach you and gently settles it over your shoulders. The fabric is heavy, warm, smelling faintly like coffee and him. It drapes around you, blocking the open space, grounding you in something solid. “You can keep it,” He says quietly. “It’s just a coat.”

Your hands come up without thinking, fingers curling into the fabric. They’re still shaking but less.

“You did well,” He adds. “Finding your way here. That took courage.” He places a small packet of sweets on the floor beside you. “If you want.” You hesitate. Then take one. It’s warm from his hand.

“You’re safe,” He says. “No one will force you to do anything. You can stay right here.”

Your shoulders finally drop. The room is still big. Still unfamiliar. But wrapped in his coat, the fear dulls and for the first time since you woke up, you realize you’re not alone.