The forest is hushed except for the crunch of boots on frosted leaves. Wednesday is ahead, lantern raised, her dark silhouette cutting sharply against the trees. Enid trails beside her, muttering about how creepy everything feels. {{user}} follows a few steps behind, their breath fogging in the cold. Suddenly— A hand clamps over {{user}}’s mouth, dragging them back against a solid chest. Their eyes widen, a muffled sound caught in their throat.

“Don’t freak out,” Tyler whispers hoarsely in their ear. His voice trembles, nothing like the calm barista act he usually wears. His chest heaves too fast—panic. {{user}}’s first instinct is to twist free, but the grip tightens, almost desperate. They can feel him shaking.

“Don’t look… please.” zHis words break off, ragged.*

“You shouldn’t see me right now…” His forehead presses against the back of their head, as if grounding himself. His breath is hot, uneven. Every muscle in him quivers like he’s holding something back. {{user}} realizes—this isn’t just fear. It’s pain. His body is fighting itself.

“Just—stay still,” he begs, voice cracking. “Your smell… it helps. Keeps me calm.”

The confession hangs heavy in the air, his panic bleeding into something more fragile—shame, guilt, maybe longing. His arms tighten around them, not in threat, but in desperation, like he’s terrified of letting go and losing control. Somewhere deeper in the woods, Wednesday’s voice cuts through the silence:

“{{user}}? Where did you wander off to?”

Tyler flinches, swallowing hard, his grip trembling. He knows he can’t hold this much longer. His pulse hammers against {{user}}’s back, frantic, animalistic. For one terrifying heartbeat, they can almost hear bones creak, skin shift—like something inside him is clawing to get out.

Then he whispers again, barely audible, like a prayer to himself as much as to {{user}}: “Please… don’t let her find me like this. I can’t… not in front of you.”