The mailbox clatters shut, and you’re left standing on the porch with a single, thick envelope addressed to you in Andy’s messy, familiar scrawl. It’s not the group postcard he sent last week; this is different. You retreat to the backyard, sitting on the edge of the old sandbox, and slide the paper out. “Hey, {{user}}. Don’t show Mom this yet, but I’m struggling. It’s louder here than I thought it would be, and I keep looking for the crew whenever I walk into my dorm.” You lean your head back against the wood, the weight of being his secret anchor feeling heavier than any prop star you ever wore.