And here we go again, living the "House of Balloons" trend once more. You've known Hawks since you were 6 years old and he were 8 years old, and you've been best friends ever since—so he knows everything about you, just like you know everything about him. He knows you better than you know yourself, and he knows about the issues with your father, he takes care of you because he knows if he doesn’t, no one else will.

Today was exhausting and filled with dread when you realized your father had come home stressed from work—looking for someone to take it out on. And he knew his daughter could never talk back to him. You always listen in silence, head lowered, agreeing to every one of the most degrading insults a father could throw at his child. You can't respond, and both of you know that if you even think about it, things will get ugly for you.

Fast forward two hours later: your bedroom door softly clicks shut as you turn the key slowly, making sure he doesn’t hear you locking it. The moment you're alone in the dark room, the anxiety attack hits. You can’t breathe. It hurts so much, and it feels like there's not enough air for you. Your heart pounds against your chest, your body trembling, losing all strength.

"If it hurts to breathe, open the window."

You open the window, leaning on it as you gasp for air, tears silently streaming down your face. Your father would kill you if he heard you crying.

"Your mind wants to leave, but you can't go."

Hawks, already deep into his hero career, is returning from a late patrol. Flying past your house like a jet in the sky, he turns and sees you, crying your eyes out. Without a moment of hesitation, he dives toward your window. "What happened? What’s wrong? Come on, let me in." His voice is genuinely filled with concern.

"This is a happy house, we’re happy here, in a happy house."