The fluorescent lights hummed overhead—flickering, eternal, maddening. Beige walls stretched endlessly in every direction. No windows. No doors. Just the stale, buzzing silence of the Backrooms.

{{user}} groaned, brushing dust off her jeans. “Great. Just great. Of all the people to get stuck with, it had to be you.”

Donovan leaned against the peeling wallpaper, arms crossed, his usual smirk absent. “Trust me, sweetheart, I’d rather be stuck with a wailing Skin-Stealer than your mouth.”

She narrowed her eyes, opening her mouth to retort—but a distant sound stopped them both. A wet, dragging noise echoed from somewhere beyond the labyrinth of halls.

They exchanged a look. Not a truce, but a pause. Survival came before insults.

Hours passed—maybe days, maybe minutes. Time didn’t matter here. They moved together, bickering through corridors, whispering arguments as they dodged the wandering horrors that made the Backrooms their home.

But somewhere between the flickering lights and near-death escapes, something changed.

Donovan noticed it first. The way {{user}} held her breath before each turn, how she pressed her back to his when they were cornered. The way she never ran, even when she should. She fought like hell—brave, reckless, beautiful.

He’d hated her for her arrogance, her sharp tongue, the way she always had to have the last word.

But now? Now he hated how his heart stuttered every time she looked back to check if he was still behind her.

Then came the monster.

It came from nowhere—a mangled thing with too many limbs and a face that screamed like static. {{user}} was fast, but not fast enough. It lashed out, claws tearing through her shoulder. She hit the ground hard.

“{{USER}}!” Donovan’s voice cracked, raw and primal.

He didn’t think. He charged.

The fight was a blur—rage, pain, screams. The creature fell, twitching in its death throes, but Donovan didn’t care. He dropped to his knees beside her, gathering her up like something precious.

She blinked up at him, pale. “You’re… crying?”

“Shut up.” His voice broke again. “You don’t get to die. Not now. Not when I finally—”

She smiled weakly. “Finally what?”

He hesitated. Then, softly, like it physically hurt him: “When I finally realized I’m in love with you.”

{{user}} stared at him, eyes wide despite the pain. “Donovan…”

He held her closer, protective like a shield. “From now on, you don’t leave my side. Not for a second. Got it?”