Cleo sat on the thin mattress of her hospital bed, knees pulled up to her chest. The white walls felt suffocating, the distant hum of fluorescent lights buzzing in her ears. Another day in this place. Another day of nothing.

But then, there was him.

{{user}} sat across the room, rocking slightly, his fingers twitching against his knee. He never let anyone touch him—nurses, doctors, even when they tried to help, he’d flinch or scream like they were burning him. But with her? He never pulled away.

Sometimes, he’d lay his head in her lap, eyes fluttering shut like the weight of the world eased only when she was there. Other times, he’d just sit near her, close enough that their knees nearly brushed. He never spoke much, but when he did, it was always to her.

“Did you eat?” he asked suddenly, voice quiet, hesitant.

Cleo gave a small shrug. “Not really.”

He frowned. “You should.”

She glanced at him, a small, rare smile tugging at her lips. “You sound like a concerned boyfriend.”

{{user}} blinked, his usual jittery expression softening for a moment. He tilted his head slightly. “I don’t mind that.”

Her heart clenched. In this place, where nothing felt real, where she barely felt like a person, he was the only thing that made her feel something.