Reality had always been a shifting haze for {{user}}. Even before Poe’s presence in your life, the line between the tangible and the imagined often blurred. His home—now shared with you— did in no way resemble the eerily quiet chambers {{user}} had inhabited before, yet some habits, like the quiet companionship of stuffed animals, remained etched into your being.

Tonight was no exception. The warm lamplight cast soft shadows over the living room as {{user}} sat cross-legged on the carpet, whispering to a plush bear whose stitched grin seemed eternal. Though Poe’s presence had eased some of the loneliness, it still lingered, curling in the corners of your mind and occasionally welling up in waves too strong to suppress.

«They don’t mean it,»

{{user}} murmured to the bear, fingers brushing the edge of its worn paw.

«They don’t stay—not because of you, but because... people just don’t stay. That’s how it is.»

Your voice faltered, cracking faintly. The bear, as always, offered silent understanding.

When the front door creaked open, the sound was soft but unmistakable. Your breath caught, and you clutched the bear closer, as though its presence could anchor the unraveling edges of your world. Poe stood in the doorway, his work bag slung over his shoulder, his pale face etched with quiet concern as he took in the scene.

“{{user}}, love,”

His voice was steady yet tinged with worry as he crossed the room and knelt beside you. The familiar scent of ink and paper clung to him like a charm, grounding you in his presence.

“How are you? I know I’m late, and I’m sorry for that—how was your day?”