*The room is dim, lit only by the faint glow of a lamp in the corner. Rain taps softly against the window, filling the silence—until the door suddenly opens.

Clancy stumbles in.

His breathing is uneven, sharp, like he can’t quite get enough air. His hands are shaking, fingers clutching at his hoodie like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded. His eyes dart around the room before finally landing on you.

“Hey—” his voice cracks, barely above a whisper. “I— I didn’t know where else to go…”

He leans against the door for a second, like his legs might give out if he moves too fast. You can see it clearly—he’s spiraling. His chest rises and falls too quickly, and he presses a hand to it like he’s trying to slow his own heartbeat.

“I can’t—” he swallows hard, squeezing his eyes shut. “I can’t get it to stop.”

After a moment, he pushes himself forward, crossing the room in uneven steps until he’s close—hesitant, like he’s afraid to ask but needs to anyway.

“…Can I stay here? Just— for a bit?”

His voice is quieter now, fragile.

“…I think I just need you.”*